Connections
by Cielesia
Summary: In a world without Goddesses and Devils, there are still Heroines that need to be saved. Too bad for Keima Katsuragi; he'll be shanghaied into Capturing them all, even without that collar around his neck.
1. Enter Ayumi Takahara

_Connection 1: Enter Ayumi Takahara_

* * *

Keima Katsuragi wasn't having a good day. He was slumped over on a bench, seemingly drained of energy. Passersby made sure to keep their distance from the man who seemed to exude a vengeful aura.

That man, staring at the sky, looked at his PFP-less hands and clenched them out of anger. He laughed, softly at first, till it turned into a loud maniacal cackle. He muttered, "Take my games, will they? Well, they'll have to try harder than that. I'm getting my beloved PFP back if it's the last thing I do!"

"...Ew, what a creep," some nearby girl whispered to her friend.

Hmph. Like he cared about their shitty opinion. The only girls that truly mattered to him were the heroines in his games, after all! Side characters like them should just stay quiet and let the Capturing God do his work.

Noticing Keima's muffled rant, the friend replied, "You got a problem, Otamegane?"

' _W-Well, I'll just let them go,'_ Keima declared internally, quickly getting up and slinking away from the confrontation. _'They aren't worth talking to. Now, how am I going to get my games back?'_

He checked his watch - twelve 'o clock. It was lunch break, after all, so it had to be around noon. He assumed that the teacher who took his beloved handheld - Yuri Nikaidou - was too smart to just keep the PFP in the safe at her cubicle. Kinda disappointing, since he knew the number code was 5-5-3-4. Instead, she would keep it on her person so that it would be harder for him to steal back. Hm… maybe it would be easier to just buy another one with M-funds.

Picking up his phone, Keima quickly dialed his mother. "Hi, Mom."

"Keima? Why did you call?" Keima could hear the suspicion in her voice. Better be blunt about his request. "You better not be in trouble again-"

"No. Nothing like that," the boy replied. He heard a sigh of relief. Hook, line, and sinker. "I was just wondering… can I have some extra allowance in advance? Maybe around 25,000 yen?"

The line grew quiet. A few moments later, Keima heard a deep sigh. "For what, Keima?"

"A new PFP-"

"Absolutely not." Then the call was hung up, if the loud slam from the other end of the conversation was any indication. The God of Conquests sighed. He knew that was going to be her response, but it was worth a shot. Now the only course of action to pursue was to steal- _retrieve_ his PFP. It was going to be hard, but he had a plan. Keima Katsuragi always had a plan.

* * *

"Hey, Ms. Nikaidou! I got you some coffee!" Keima cooed, handing the teacher a home brewed cup of joe.

Leaning back into her chair, Yuri raised an eyebrow at the student. If he was trying to butter her up in order to get his PFP back, then he had another thing coming. Still, Keima wasn't that dumb. There was something else up his sleeve. It'd be a good idea to reject the coffee offer… but it smelled delightful. During the (frequent) parent-teacher conferences that she held with Keima's mother, she heard that the Katsuragi's ran a cafe, and she could definitely smell the quality. Hm… there was no harm in trying it, right?

Yuri cautiously took the cup from Keima, glaring at that fake smile on his face. "If I find out that you put something in this, I'll kill you."

"Point taken," Keima said, plastic expression still on his face. "See you later, Ms. Nikaidou."

Keima left, not even looking back to see the pure look of ecstasy that Yuri had as she gulped down the coffee that tasted nectarous, like liquid joy. She loved how sweet the coffee was while having just the slightest bit of bitterness that didn't deter her from drinking - in fact, she wanted more because of it. Hm… she'd have to pay that cafe a visit sometime.

The Capturing God smirked. The pieces were falling right into place.

* * *

Keima Katsuragi stood near the faculty room, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. While he failed in that respect - everyone noticed that manic smirk on his gross expression - he was avoided for the same reason. In the end, he didn't want anyone to bother him as his plan was about to unfold.

He checked his watch. Seven 'o clock. No other teachers should be at their cubicles aside from Yuri, who needed to file Keima's 17th confiscated PFP into the list of contraband to be returned at the end of the year.

Okay, so he needed to separate Yuri from her purse, which was the most likely place for his PFP to be in. Luckily, the diuretic that is naturally found in coffee should kick in right about-

Keima quickly turned around as Yuri Nikaidou burst out of the faculty room towards the location of the woman's restroom, which was conveniently located quite far from where Keima was. He smirked, pushing up his glasses. The conditions have been met. Time to finish the plan.

Keima strode into the faculty room, confident that no teachers would be there. He swung open the doors… and was met by a girl.

At least he wasn't wrong.

She was a short haired girl with a healthy figure who was around half a foot shorter than Keima. He knew that she was someone from his class, though he just couldn't get her name. It was on the tip of his tongue… "Takahara?"

"Otamega," Ayumi Takahara greeted in return, making sure to give that gross human being a wide berth. So her name _was_ Takahara. "What are you doing here?"

Ew, Otamega. No one in class liked him. He was always playing his games, chuckling like the creep he was with that disgusting smile. With the way he always was in his own little reality-denying world, it was not surprising that everyone avoided to associate with him, and she could see it.

Ugh, a classmate. That put a wrench in Keima's plan. He had to think quickly. What could he do to get this Takahara girl out of the room so that he could swap out his PFP for the dud he always kept on him? Well, unlike in galge, he couldn't just bring up a chart of stats and character traits in order to decide what flags to raise. He was forced to stall, though he didn't have much time.

"Well, what are you doing here?" Keima rebutted, internally wincing at how little time he had left. Two minutes - two minutes were all he had to persuade Ayumi to leave the room, take the PFP, and leave. Well, if he jumped out the window instead of leaving through the doors, he'd buy a few more seconds for himself, but there was nothing else to extend the timer.

He moved towards the purse, which just happened to draw him near Ayumi, who backed off. Ah, the benefits of being undesired by Reality. He pulled out the dud, which was a PFP that was frozen on a CG, and pretended to play.

"Don't come near me, creep," Ayumi said, making sure that they were at least a meter apart. Oh, and he pulls out another gaming console. How wonderful. Wait, wasn't that confiscated just this morning? Just how many of those things did he keep on his person? She averted her eyes, instead deciding to stare at the door. Oh, Ms. Nikaidou, please come soon! "I'm just trying to ask about how I can pull up my grades."

"Hmph." She snuck a peek at the Otamegane. He had this horrifying grin of delight on his face from hearing that. Ugh, she shouldn't have bothered with him. She turned back to the door. "Why do you need to pull up your grades anyway?"

"None of your business," she coldly replied, ending the conversation. Perfect. Now that she was going to ignore him, he could freely reach for the PFP. In one quick motion, he slipped his hand into Yuri's purse, grabbed the PFP within, and retrieved it, making sure to swap it out with the broken one. Heh, mission complete. All he had to do now was slip out the window.

That's when the door swung open.

Shit. He only had a second left. Quicker than he thought possible, Keima was able to slip under the desk. It was a sad attempt at hiding, especially when Ayumi could easily point him out. Damn, it just wasn't his day.

Keima could see Yuri's legs as she walked over to her cubicle. Five seconds to think of a reason why he just happened to be underneath her desk without getting suspended for thievery or expelled for voyeurism. Then, Ayumi stood in front of his crouched form, essentially trapping him. He couldn't even attempt to scurry away. Or maybe... she was concealing him?

"Ms. Nikaidou, thanks for having me," Ayumi said, sounding truly grateful for having the opportunity to talk to the teacher.

"It's my job as a homeroom teacher, after all," Yuri replied. "So, what made you schedule a consultation?"

"It's about my grades. Coach said I won't be allowed to join competitions if my grades remain the same. I was wondering if you know a way of raising them."

"There's no easy way of doing that, Ayumi. You're just gonna have to put more time into your studies."

"But I don't think I'll be able to improve my grades that way. I might be able to make enough time if I drop track and field training, but if I do that, what's the point of getting good grades anyway? Running is my passion, Ms. Nikaidou! Please, help me with this hurdle!"

"Well, I'm sorry, but it's not like I can magically curve your grades. All I can suggest is that if you can't lengthen your study time, then you'll have to improve the quality of your study time. Have a friend tutor you, maybe. Again, I'm sorry, but this is all the help I can offer you."

"Ugh, this is gonna be hard. Thanks anyway, Ms. Nikaidou."

"No problem- wait, what's that under my desk? Is that-"

"By the way… I saw Keima leave the room while you were away. I think he was carrying one of those game consoles he always has. You don't think-"

Keima could hear Yuri slam her fist onto the cubicle wall. He shivered. The Real can be scary at times. "That kid's gonna get the beating of a lifetime. If I don't find that PFP in this purse, then may God help him…"

Keima heard the teacher rush out of the room, probably in order to prepare his punishment for the next day. He shuddered at the possibilities - that was one sadistic teacher, after all. He saw Ayumi's legs twist and back off, letting him go. Wait, just like that? Was he finally home free? Keima was internally jumping for joy.

He crawled out of his hiding spot and rose to his full height, facing the track runner. Well, her character was finally revealed. So she was the athletic type. Good at sports, weak at academics. If he didn't know better, Keima might have admitted that it sounded a lot like one of the heroines he had saved in a past game, but no. That's not how Reality works. Nothing interesting can come from what's Real… right?

He shook all doubt from his mind, instead saying, "Thanks for distracting her."

That smirk on her face chilled him to the bone. "Oh, I didn't do that for you. After all, it wouldn't due for my _tutor_ to be suspended from classes, right?"

...Huh!?

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed. I'm a little rusty - made a new account after months of being MIA from the site - so please bear with me till I get the groove of writing fiction again. Hm... I wonder who will recognize me. See ya.**


	2. Enter Shiori Shiomiya

_Connection 2: Enter Shiori Shiomiya_

* * *

...Huh!?

Keima Katsuragi was floored. Did he happen to raise a flag during their very short conversation or something? He thought back to that one-minute talk. Hm… he did nothing out-of-the-ordinary, so unless the fact that they were alone together served as a catalyst for her feelings towards Keima to grow exponentially, no flags should have been raised.

Yes, thinking about it, she was probably just aware of his stellar grades in spite of his frequent mid-class gaming. She must have been assuming that if he could get good grades without paying attention, then she could get decent grades without having to increase the length of her study sessions. Well, too bad for her, but he wasn't going to have his gaming time cut by a girl of the Real.

"And why should I tutor you?" Keima objected, folding his arms. While he was a bit confident that he could slither his way out of this, there was no harm in making her lay her cards on the table, if she had any. As long as she wasn't desperate, Keima's escape was assured. "If you think that I'm the type to repay debts out of honor, then you're sorely mistaken."

"Grr… you're a real ass, Otamegane," Ayumi cursed. Still, she didn't move from her spot, effectively stopping Keima from exiting the faculty room through the doors. Maybe he could jump out the window? He visualized the dimensions of the room. Ten meters… not close enough. Ayumi would definitely catch up to him, if her toned legs worked as well as they looked.

Noticing Keima's gaze dipping below her waist, she muttered, "Disgusting too. My eyes are up here, pervert!"

"I-I was just wondering if I could outrun you, but now I highly doubt that," the boy admitted. That seemed to peter her disgust a bit. "Anyway, if you have nothing to offer-"

 _Yoink_. Faster than he could see, Keima was disarmed of his beloved PFP. ' _I guess her arms are as fast as her legs.'_

Ayumi, dangling the PFP in her hand, was a bit surprised. No Doritos grease? It didn't smell like a monkey handled it? And where was the suspicious stain that could be found on most creeps' items? Well, she supposed that the sloppy stereotype didn't apply to _this_ creep.

' _Well, that doesn't make him any less gross,'_ Ayumi thought, looking at the PFP in her hand.

Then, a hand darted for the console at blistering speeds that Ayumi would associate with the ping pong team and _not_ a lazy gamer ' _Wow, fast.'_

Too bad she was quicker than that. Just as Keima's fingers grazed the console, Ayumi swiftly drew it away, her hands swinging around and finding themselves near her back dimples. Keima tried to circle around her, but kept finding no way to get his PFP without brute force.

So he tried brute force.

Keima, like a feral tiger, fell to his four limbs then pounced towards Ayumi, much to the track and field girl's surprise. That surprise resulted in her planting her knee out of reflex into the flying Keima's stomach with a little more force than she would have used if she wasn't startled into action. The Capturing God crumpled to the floor, his stomach feeling like slush.

"Geez, don't scare me like that," Ayumi said, standing over the boy's fallen body, which was curled up in fetal position in an effort to ebb the pain away. "Heh, I guess I don't know my own strength."

Keima moaned in response.

"Anyway," Ayumi continued, "I guess I'll be taking this, unless you want to be my tutor."

Keima, slowly rising, was finding that the situation was getting worse and worse. "I-I don't think that the teachers would be fine with theft."

"That would be true… for anyone but you, Keima Katsuragi," the track and field girl said. Hook, line, and sinker. "So, will you be my tutor?"

"...Gh, fine," Keima groaned, barely managing to get on his knees. Looking at the floor, Keima internally wept in despair. He should have had this in the bag. Darn, he had gotten cocky. If he had just factored in the possibility of a classmate applying for a consultation - which rarely happened, to his knowledge - then he could have prepared for it. "Let's get this over with."

"Trust me; I don't enjoy this arrangement either. I have to do this, though." Keima watched the resolve on Ayumi's face. Her's was a face of pure determination. She wouldn't just skirt around obstacles. She'd run them through head-on. How interesting. Wow, he almost didn't believe it. A Real girl… was interesting. While she was no Heroine, she definitely had more charm than those other background characters. Let's just see how much character this Ayumi Takahara person had.

"Oh, and wipe that smile off your face. Gross. Maybe I should just return this thing after all…"

* * *

"Auah, Yamada's so _hot!_ "

Miyako Terada rolled her eyes at the antics of one of her best friends, Chihiro Kosaka. The short haired girl was staring at her phone with a look of pure glee. Cheeks flushed and eyes wide, Chihiro was so deep in her fangirling that she didn't even notice the drool running down her face. Miyako didn't point that out, though - it was a funny sight, after all, and the pianist enjoyed a small chuckle - and kept on eating her bento.

Ah, eating lunch on the rooftop with her friends was the best.

"Yamada? What happened to Nozaki?" Ayumi asked, stuffing her mouth full of juicy morsels of meat. Miyako peered into the athlete's bento box, which was triangle shaped. Oh, and the divisions made the box look just like a food pyramid. Miyako couldn't say that she was surprised, but she had to admit that it did suit the track-and-field member.

"Got rejected yesterday," Chihiro replied as she continued to munch on her meat bun, her eyes never leaving her phone. Miyako sighed. She didn't really like how her friend had these flavor-of-the-month men that she constantly had to confess to. Heck, with how long Chihiro's disappointment normally lasted - 12 hours is the new record - it's like she didn't even like those men in the first place. Was she really doing herself good, or was she just seeking attention? Miyako wasn't the type to jump to conclusions. She'd jump in and help out if and when she needed to, but for now, she was content with observing.

Chihiro decided to steer the conversation away from her rather frivolous love life, saying, "So what did Ms. Nikaidou say about your grades?"

"She told me to get a tutor."

"Sorry, can't help you there, Ayumi," Miyako said, saddened. While she had the best grades among the three of them, she was too busy with cram school and the family business to help her friend out.

Ayumi waved her off, replying, "Oh, it's okay. I… _found_ a tutor, so I think I'm in the clear."

"You sure this guy's good?" Chihiro asked, concern laced on her lips. "Mr. Kodama gives punishing tests."

"Yeah, I'm sure that he's good enough to help me."

That made Miyako's eyebrows rise. Even she had a hard time with those tests of his. If Ayumi was this confident with acing the next test, then her tutor must be incredibly intelligent. The long-haired girl just had to ask, "Who is your tutor anyway?"

"I'd… rather not say. It's kind of embarrassing," Ayumi said. Weird. If the embarrassment was because she had a crush on her tutor, she'd be bashful and flushed, but Ayumi looked dismayed. Hm, just who was this tutor? He was someone that Ayumi would be ashamed to mention but reliable enough to count on as a tutor. Thinking about it, wasn't there someone who was constantly getting perfect scores in those tests?

...Eh!?

"Katsuragi's your tutor!?" Miyako bellowed. This elicited a look of surprise from Chihiro and a look of shame from Ayumi.

"Well, there were certain circumstances. I managed to get my hands on this," Ayumi conveyed, pulling out Keima's PFP from her school bag and handing it to Miyako. She took it and handled it gingerly, eyeing it from all angles. "Apparently, he really needed it. I also knew that he could probably help me ace that test, so I decided to use it to get him to tutor me."

"Well, might as well look through this thing," Miyako declared, turning on the device as the other two girls gathered around her. The display bloomed to life, showing a neat little interface. Miyako navigated over to the Mail app and opened it. Instantly, a message popped up on screen. "...Eh, Katsuragi sent you a message."

"Really? What does it say?"

"'When should we have our session?' he says."

"Well, I have training from four to six o' clock, so could you tell him six thirty?"

Miyako followed her orders, typing surprisingly fast for her first time using the PFP's clunky keyboard interface. A few seconds later, the system sounded off a little ping, telling them that another message had been received. Miyako relayed, "He said, 'Okay. You better be at the library by then.' How cold."

"He's worse than just cold, but I don't feel like elaborating right now," the athlete said, retrieving the PFP.

"Oh well, at least he didn't say something stupid like 'behind the school dumpster' or else I might have to smack him," Ayumi huffed, walking back to her empty bento box. Quickly packing up her things, she made her way downstairs, hollering, "See you guys tomorrow!"

* * *

' _Well,_ The Boy Who Shattered Time _wasn't_ horrible _, but it certainly paled in comparison to_ The Exile _,'_ Shiori Shiomiya concluded, setting the "new release" book down.

She took a deep breath, admiring the library, which was pretty much her home away from her home. The librarian was familiar with every single nook and cranny of the joint. There was a dust bunny under the third bookcase of aisle three on the first floor. _Holy Crystal Albatross_ , which was Shiori's favorite axed-off book, was haphazardly left on the top of another bookshelf. (She'll have to go and retrieve it later.) Heck, she even left a little note in a hole in the wall to see if anyone would notice it. Day 239: it was still there, untouched. Shiori definitely knew the most about her home turf.

Which is why changes to the library disturbed her. Setting the book aside for proper sorting at a later date, Shiori focused on the memo on her desk. It said that they would be removing one bookshelf from the ghost town that is the third floor and replacing it with a CD rack. A CD rack? Does the administration think that if they add a few electronic disks to the library that students will flock to it? Well, it won't, especially not at the loss of those beloved books! Seriously, they're planning to auction it off for less than a fraction of the books' actual worth! How ridiculous.

Well, what could she do about it?

As she thought of a plan to fight against the administration, someone walked into the library. Shiori didn't recognize him, which meant that he wasn't someone who frequented her haven. The quiet girl quickly pocketed the memo as the brown-haired guy with glasses walked towards her desk. Alright, Shiori. Act calm. It's just a person. You can do this.

"You have games here?" the guy said in a dull voice. Yikes. While he looked a bit cute, his expression was quite unpleasant. He kind of reminded Shiori of a robot with the way he seemed so lifeless.

Also, games? Really? You shouldn't go to the library for electronic entertainment! Shiori tried her best to convey these thoughts to the man through eye contact. A few seconds later, and the man's raised eyebrow forced her to have to use… _speech._ Shiori, after multiple deep breaths, said, "Eh… uh… we don't h-have games here, t-though we have a few gaming magazines to my left."

"Magazines? Hmph. What a waste of paper. Reading's more efficient on a tablet anyway," the irritable man sighed, lazily snatching a magazine off the rack and slumping down on a nearby table.

' _This man… this infuriating man…'_ All Shiori wanted to do was shout at the top of her lungs and enumerate how print was better than digital, and there was no hope in hell that he'd be getting the truncated list!

The library club member strode over to him, fully willing to give him the lecture of his life, but just as she left her desk, she heard the doors swing open. Realizing that someone else entered the library, Shiori quickly went back to her desk in case the newcomer needed the library girl's help.

She was also not someone who frequented Shiori's haven. This newcomer, with her athletic build and confident stride, kind of scared Shiori. With the way she presented herself, you'd think that she could tackle the world - the complete opposite of Shiori. Just what was that kind of person doing in the library girl's domain?

Shiori saw the girl sit... in front of the insufferable man!? But why? While Shiori didn't like to judge based on appearances, she _did_ like to judge based on personality, and their personalities were destined to clash guaranteed... right?

"Alright, Otamegane. I'm here, so let's get this over with," the girl said, her mood dropping- _plummeting_ just by being near the man apparently.

So Shiori was right. Splendid. Wait... Otamegane. She had heard of that monicker before. Gossip girls from her class used that title when describing this computer-game obsessed slob who is socially inept and is as disgusting on the inside as he is on the outside. Seems like those rumors were true.

"Right," Otamegane said, pulling up a blackboard next to the table for his companion's viewing pleasure.

' _Hey, library blackboards were kept in the backroom, which was locked! How did he get his hands on that!?'_

"So all you need to do is to get a perfect score on Mr. Kodama's next exam, right, Takahara?" the brown-haired man asked, not noticing Shiori's internal question. He got a nod in response. Taking the nod to heart - seemingly, at least - he hastily wrote on the chalk board. This caught the attention of the girl - Takahara - who went from a passive expression to one of intrigue.

This piqued the interest of Shiori as well, who went from her desk to the infamous man's table, shoving her hands in her pockets as she did so. She was greeted by a test complete with multiple choice, true or false, and essay questions.

"There," the man said, dropping the chalk, "those are the problems for the next exam."

"Eh!? How are you so sure, Katsuragi?" Takahara questioned, echoing the question in Shiori's mind.

"Well, when you put together Mr. Kodama's personality combined with the scope of topics and the types and amount of questions that he usually uses, this is the most logical result," the man concluded confidently. Shiori shivered. Not only was the girl confident; Otamegane, who according to most was creepy and awkward, was poised. If even _that_ kind of person can have a sense of assertiveness, then how low was Shiori ranked?

As Shiori drowned in her depression, Keima continued despite the extra audience member. "If you remember this, you'll probably get at least a 90."

"You must be kidding," Ayumi asked skeptically, though her hand still moved to copy what was on the board.

"Hmph," Keima let out, pushing up his glasses. "Studying the normal way is far too inefficient! If you isolate what's truly necessary, there are less test-related tasks than the number of galge coming out this month!"

That reminded Keima of his rather clamant lack of a PFP. Since he wasn't getting M-funds till the end of the month, he'd have to wait to play and review all those games. Oh well, it's not like he had a backlog, so he'd be able to catch up in no time.

"Anyway, here are some points to watch out for to get the remaining 10 percent," Keima said, causing the runner to write at incredible speeds. Keima could have sworn that smoke was coming off of Ayumi's pencil tip. Writing the pointers down, Keima relaxed, glad that after the short 20 minute lecture he was going to give, he was done. "See, even you can get 100 percent if you just optimize your study time."

"H-Hey, I'm not an idiot. Really!" Ayumi whined, finishing off her pointers. She had to admit that they were well constructed, and she almost wished that Keima was the one teaching them instead of Mr. Kodama. Still, she sensed a light jab from Keima's last statement and rose to defend herself. "I'm actually really smart! I just focus on running, so my grades dipped. Look, I even got a 100 in middle school!"

"...Yeah, fine," Keima relented, keeping all traces of doubt from his tone, only wishing to continue with the lesson.

"You don't believe me!?" Ayumi cried, appalled. She stood up, whipping out her phone. "Hold on, I'm gonna get my mom to send me a photo of it."

As Ayumi pecked away at her phone, Keima sighed and said, "Um, let's just continue…"

Keima saw Ayumi's phone buzz. With a smirk on her face, the athlete fiddled around with her phone a bit more only to have that smirk slowly drop. Replacing her smirk was an intense blush which spread across her face rapidly. Scrambling for more time, Ayumi said, "W-Wait, I've gotten a perfect score in elementary school…"

"Sure you did."

"J-Just shut up-"

"P-Please be quiet in the libaby!" Shiori interjected, slamming her hands on the table and stopping the banter.

"Libaby? … Ah! Sorry, we'll try to keep it down!" Ayumi apologized as Keima noticed a slip of paper in the meek girl's hand. As said girl backed away from the table in order to (attempt) conversing with Ayumi, Keima picked up the memo and read through it.

"Right, I-I'll leave you two to sturdy- I mean study!" Shiori said, trying to make herself as small as possible. Then, she saw that the memo was in Otamegane's hands. She restrained herself from jumping at him to get the small sheet of paper back. "U-Um, please g-give that hack- back!"

"So they're adding a few CD's to the library? Nothing for me, but at least they're finally in the 21st Century," Keima said, handing it back to the shy girl.

She ripped it out of his hands. Without another word, the girl left, returning to the staff desk.

Keima shrugged. "Now, to continue-"

"Keima, would it kill you to be more… approachable?" Ayumi complained, closing her notebook. "This lesson is over. We're continuing this tomorrow."

"Alright-"

"Now, spend the rest of the day helping that girl."

* * *

 **Hello! A few points I'd like to address. If you didn't notice, I changed the title of the story from Rerun to Connections. Just seemed to fit the theme better. This is reflected in the cover photo of the story. Speaking of the cover, as new characters get introduced, I'll be changing the cover photo to feature them. First was Ayumi, now it's Shiori! Also, I feel that the ending to this chapter is rather weak. I'd like to hear some feedback on that specifically. Anyway, I'll see you in the next chapter!**


	3. Courage

Chapter Three: Courage

"What do you mean 'help her out'? This was not part of the deal, Takahara," Keima Katsuragi asked, walking towards Ayumi till he stood quite close to her in order to try to make her feel uncomfortable.

To his surprise, she didn't falter like most other scum of the Real. She stood her ground and stared back, head tilted upward in order to face him better.

Keima was not one who liked to dabble with the Real. He felt that the world of galge was a world of life and virtues that was worth investing countless hours of his life into. On the other hand, Reality was full of plastic characters and lifeless features that the Capturing God had no interest in.

... but Ayumi Takahara's eyes told a different tale. For just a moment, Keima thought he was staring into the eyes of a Heroine.

"Why do you feel so strongly about someone you don't even know?" the gamer asked, hoping to get a little insight into Ayumi's inner workings.

"I just felt bad for her, you know," Ayumi admitted, shyly bringing her hands behind her back as both their aggressive stances deflated. "I know how it feels like for others to step on your passions like that. Plus, I think she's a nice girl, though she's a bit socially inept. There's no harm in helping her."

So she was feeling... empathy? Hmph. Rather disappointing. He thought there was something deeper to the fire in her eyes that was there a moment ago. She isn't on a Heroine's level: far from it, in fact.

Still, Keima would definitely have to watch her closely. He had to save _all_ Heroines: even if they happened to be part of the Real. Capturing God's policy, after all.

"Let's make a deal," Keima proposed, resigned to the fact that he'd be forced to help out that library girl. "I'll help her and tutor you only if you return by PFP after I'm done with the former."

Ayumi crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. Skepticism laced in her tone, she said, "I don't think I can trust you. I remember that a certain someone tried to tackle me for this. How am I gonna make sure that you'll follow through with the agreement?"

"Alright, I'll report the progress of your little mission to you everyday, and if I miss a day, feel free to rat me out to Ms. Nikaidou," Keima proposed. This would appeal to Ayumi's constant need for flow and motion: both physically and figuratively. "How about over text?"

"Doesn't seem fair. Still... you look absolutely demoralized during classes without your console, and it's starting to affect 2-B a bit," the athlete replied, her maternal instincts cropping up. "Okay, I accept."

"Perfect-"

"But we meet up in person."

"Why?"

"I know you're crafty; you might try to fake a progress report. In person, I can at least look at your facial expressions to see if you're lying."

"Okay, I accept," Keima agreed, secretly chuckling internally. She didn't know how good his poker face really was. Over his time with his 10,000 Heroines, he had to assume different façades in order to save them. Hiding a lie was going to be no problem, though he had no intention of bailing on the runner.

This was interesting enough to see all the way through.

"I-I'm sorry," Keima said, bowing a little. The girl he was apologizing to looked up from her book, a look of surprise on her face. That surprise quickly turned into timidness, forcing the girl to swiftly close her book in order to address him. "I guess I was a bit too insensitive."

Librarians in games usually had tougher skin.

"N-No harm done," Shiori meekly replied, hoping that she could return to her book after that half-assed apology. Yeah right. What that guy said to her definitely stung. It only served as a reminder of how powerless Shiori really was. She didn't even have the guts to even try to shoot down the proposal. Thinking about it, Shiori doubted that the rest of the library committee even knew about her disapproval.

' _Great, now we've reached a deadlock,'_ Keima groaned internally. Liberal arts girls talk very little, but they think about double the amount that normal people do. While modest, they were very intelligent, which is why they were very appealing… and popular. (There were 67 games released just this season that featured these types of Heroines.) Normally, games had a work around wherein you could see her monologue in her dialogue boxes, no investment needed. Sadly, unlike games, Reality had no dialogue boxes and no Heroines.

What a shitty game.

Luckily, it was easy enough to guess what her plight was. Keima asked, "So… they're taking away a section of the library for an Audio/Visual section."

Keima got no response, aside from a slight flinch from the girl.

"What are you going to do about it?" Keima prodded, trying to elicit a verbal response. In games, he could take his time with this kind of thing and guarantee the Good Ending. It wasn't like that in real life, though. Remembering that note, Keima could see the ending. Shiori would be saved tomorrow, when the CD case was to be installed. Because of this, Keima had to book it and get her to trust him.

Shiori winced, telling him that it was a sore topic for her. Wasn't good enough. Keima looked into her eyes and asked, "Do you want to save your books?"

Shiori thought it over. This man, who earlier said that he hated books, pulled a 180 and decided to want to save them? It seemed ludicrous. This Otamegane, who kept to himself and enjoyed a certain media to a fault…

The two of them were very similar, huh? Maybe he could sense it earlier. Then this proposal wasn't from someone who hated books. This was from a person who empathized with her cause. Even so… could she trust someone she had only met that same day?

Keima could see the hesitation in the way her hands gripped her book tighter and tighter. She was on the tipping point: now to push her in the right direction. Keima placed a hand on the book she was holding and said, "I too have a world worth protecting. Join me and let me help protect yours as well."

"...Alright."

"My name is Keima Katsuragi," Keima said, standing up. He extended a hand. She took it.

"S-Shiori Shiomiya."

* * *

"So why do you want me to talk to this 'Fujiidera' person again, Katsuragi?" Ayumi asked, instantly regretting giving Keima her cellphone number. She wiped the crust out of her eyes as she looked at her bedside clock. Midnight on-the-dot. She cursed Keima for taking away her beloved sleep which she needed to jump the hurdles - figuratively and literally.

"I need you to give me a grasp on her character," the man on the phone replied. The athlete could hear the mechanical clicks of a keyboard in the background. "She needs to be of a certain archetype for my plan to work."

"Archetype? Plan?"

"To help Shiori," Keima stated with a "duh" in his tone. "I asked her about Fujiidera - the library committee head - and she said that she's 'strict.' I need you to confirm this for me."

"How would this help you?" Ayumi questioned. "Are you gonna talk to her for Shiori?"

She heard him scoff, which annoyed her. "That would take too long and it wouldn't help Shiori in the long run."

"Well, what _are_ you gonna do?"

"Nothing big. We're just gonna hold a strike."

* * *

"Shiori, we're gonna get the stuff for the transfer. Hold the fort for now. We'll be back in an hour or so," Fujiidera said, her head being the only thing visible through the doorway. After Shiori nodded, the library committee head left, leaving Shiori with her thoughts.

And Keima Katsuragi.

"She has made her egress," Shiori said, causing Keima to look at her funny. Turns out she was holding a book about Knights of the Middle Ages. "I-I mean she just left."

"Then it's time," Keima said, "I'll go change the password. You post the sign." Keima left the counter, leaving Shiori with her fort of books. As he made his way to the terminal which controlled the locks, Keima thought to himself, _'Shiori's problem isn't just with the changes to her little safe place, and it's up to me to help her.'_

Keima's fingers flew across the keyboard, and by the time Shiori returned from her task, he activated the electric lock and changed the password. With this, the library committee would be locked out of the library and would be forced to either wait it out, call over a teacher, or even cut the library's electricity if it came to that.

With that menial work over with, Keima pulled out his PFP and made his way back to Shiori. While he was on working terms with the bookworm, she wasn't comfortable enough for him to be able to save her. The committee would be back in around an hour, and once they see the big "Audio/Visual Booth Installation Opposition: Shiori Shiomiya and Keima Katsuragi" sign, they'll be forced to deliberate and decide on a course of action - 10 minutes tops - and execute it. That's how much time he had to give Shiori what she needed.

Coming back to the counter, he was surprised to see that Shiori made a little shack of books. It was rather massive: piles of novels were arranged around the desk, forming a barricade around Shiori. It reminded Keima of his real objective for staging this strike. Entering Shiori's fort, he was slightly surprised to see that she had prepared a seat for him too.

Well, at least there was some progress.

Playing with his recently acquired PFP, Keima was sucked into the world of gaming once more. The room settled into a comfortable silence with only the sound of Keima's PFP piercing through it. Taking a slight break, Keima looked to his left. There Shiori sat, seemingly invested in her book… but Keima could see the fear and anxiety in her eye. Feeling a bit of sympathy for her, Keima wondered to himself why he still felt such a connection with the Real. Till he finally disconnected himself, he'd have to settle with finding something of worth in Reality.

While he was helping Shiori, in a strange way, he was helping himself as well.

"Shiori," Keima said, pausing his game, "what's your favorite book?"

He was met with silence. Keima could see the gears move about in her head. He returned to his game, not expecting an answer anytime soon. After all, she was closely familiar with all the books in this multi-story library. To choose one book out of this colossal collection of novels was a hard task. Well, if her and her books was similar to him and his games, then:

"Anything, as long as it's good."

"Anything, as long as it's good?"

"Eh?" Shiori exclaimed, shocked at how Keima managed to guess her response.

"Let's just say that we're a bit similar," Keima said, not taking his eyes of his game. "Anyway-"

Fists slammed against the door, followed by Fujiidera bellowing, "Oi, Shiomiya! Katsuragi! Open the door immediately!"

Shiori's eyes widened as her vision grew dimmer. Thinking about it, this was a horrible idea! She looked at the entrance, the thuds against it growing louder and louder. Amidst the angry cries, Shiori asked herself why they sounded so scary. All she could think was a mantra: _'Please don't come in.'_

No, she mustn't be weak! All the books surrounding the two of them were books that were to be disposed of. She had to be strong for the books' sake! She gripped hard on her book of Knights, hoping that it would give her strength.

It didn't.

The pounding on the door didn't cease, and as the committee wailed on the entrance, Shiori's confidence was beat back. It wasn't enough. They were going to ransack her oasis, and she couldn't stop them.

Then she looked at Keima. He was as calm as before, playing his game as if the harsh pounding wasn't there. So this was the power of the Otamegane. Maybe… maybe if she relied on him, then she'd be safe and sound. "K-Keima…"

"Hold it, something's about to happen," Keima said, just as the angry shouts died down. Shiori's expression beamed slightly, so Keima made sure to knock it down a peg. "I think they're about to call a teacher. Brace yourself."

Then the world went dark. Shocked by the sudden loss of lighting, Shiori accidentally dropped her book. Fumbling about to reach said book, she instead toppled over her chair, sending her crashing into Keima. She heard a groan from the man, which was drowned out by the sound of books collapsing on top of them. Scores of books just piled onto the duo, adding onto the confusion that the power outage induced. Feeling something warm near her, she grabbed onto it, hoping that it would bring her to the surface.

He did.

"Gah, why does Reality have to hound me like this?" Keima groaned as Shiori wrapped her arms around his waist. For once, despite the chaos, she felt… comfortable. Yes, Keima was someone who could _understand_ her, even if she couldn't speak her mind. She could depend on him. "I just want to be left in peace."

Hoping that Keima could sympathize with her, Shiori said, "You know, I've always wanted to stay inside the quiet library."

"That's a lie."

Eh!?

"You're just thinking that you wanted to talk to people," Keima continued. "So you became nervous. You just don't want to become hated because of something you might say."

"B-But I think- thought-"

"That we're similar? We still have our differences, Shiori," Keima declared, rising from the sea of books. Shiori lost her grip on his waist. "While you are conscious of your actions, I simply don't think anything about the Real world. Like I said before, I have a different world: One that I believe in. I don't have anything to hide."

"Shiori," Keima continued, extending his hand towards his companion, "do you really want to protect your books, or are you actually aiming to defend the status quo?"

Shiori simply stared at his hand. All she wanted out of this was the safety of these books… right? Then why did she feel no comfort, no safety around them, even with all of these books around her?

 _I want to talk_.

She remembered the most recent council meeting. Just as the meeting ended in favor of the Audio/Visual installment, Shiori stood up, wanting to object… yet no words came out of her mouth. All she could do was look on as Fujiidera ended the meeting.

 _I want to talk._

She remembered a moment in grade school where two girls asked for Shiori's opinion on one of her favorite books. It was her chance to finally make some friends for once, but like all the other times, she blew it and didn't say a word.

 _I want to talk!_

No, she can't. It was impossible now. Her voice was already deteriorated. She couldn't leave her sanctuary. She wanted to live there. Because the outside was too scary. People were scary. She was scared.

 _Maybe… maybe if I had some courage… but my voice just won't come through…_

"I'll lend you my courage," Keima said, pulling Shiori into his arms.

Their lips met as books fell all around them.

Pulling away, Keima cursed himself for going too far. He let his Heroine impulses go too far. While it _did_ lead to the ending, the kiss was going to lead to something irreversible. The Capturing God didn't want this kind of flag raised. Staring at her speechless expression, Keima took comfort in the fact that she was probably not the type to reach out to him unnecessarily.

Neither of them could speak as the door swung open. Keima quickly pulled away from Shiori as committee members poured in… with one exception.

Yuri Nikaidou entered the room, flashing an evil grin at Keima. Sweat started to pour down Keima's forehead.

"Time for your punishment, Keima Katsuragi."

* * *

 **Hello! I was itching to add a new character in this chapter, but I wasn't able to do so before the deadline. Anyway, I do hope that you enjoyed it. I'm worried that a lot of the themes were a bit redundant, so hopefully that isn't the case.**

 **One last note: school around here is starting up. With 22 units to wade through, I'll be pretty busy, so forgive me for any delays.**


	4. Complications

_Connection Four: Complications_

* * *

"Jeez, that Nikaidou never lets up," groaned Keima Katsuragi, clutching his cheek as he leaned against the wall just outside the faculty room. He had just finished getting beat- _lectured_ by Ms. Nikaidou for instigating the strike against the library committee, and unlike Shiori and her friend Fujiidera, Keima didn't have anyone to vouch for his good intentions.

At least she didn't confiscate his PFP again.

Also, since Nikaidou dragged him away right after the incident, he wasn't confronted by Shiori. He didn't really feel like explaining why he… _kissed_ her. To be honest, he wasn't so sure of that himself. In that one moment, she felt like a Heroine: someone from his World that needed to be saved, and of course, all Heroine routes had to be ended with a kiss. It just felt right.

Still, as someone who was supposed to be detached from the Real world, he wasn't supposed to act on his Real instincts. Plus, there were complications that would crop up because of that damn kiss. Shiori might start assuming that he had feelings for her, which was completely false… right? Keima threw away those thoughts as he pulled out his PFP, hoping that he'd make it hope before it got too dark. He didn't want to have another _lecture_.

Keima walked towards the shoe lockers and almost made it, if it weren't for a certain girl: Ayumi Takahara. She stood right in front of his locker, leaning against it. She was tapping her right foot rhythmically, taking a look at her watch every now and then.

She was definitely waiting for him.

"Oi, Katsuragi," the athlete called out, pushing herself off the locker. She turned to face him, an expectant look on her face. Now, what could she want? Oh, yeah, the report. "How has progress been going with Shiori?"

"Hmph, it wasn't much," Keima replied, not even looking up from his console. "Her route was similar to a route in a game I played a few months back."

"Route? Jeez, are you even speaking Japanese?" Ayumi asked, scratching her head. "Seriously, though. It only took you a day to help her with her problem?"

"Like I said, it was a trivial matter. All the necessary flags and events were laid out for me," Keima said, moving towards Ayumi in order to make her back off from his locker. She didn't budge, even as the distance between the two of them grew smaller and smaller. That was peculiar. Normally, she would always make sure that at least a meter separated the two of them, but she was actually allowing him to come closer. If he wasn't mistaken, they were only a foot apart. It wasn't like he was concerned or anything, but he felt the urge to ask, "Oi, you're acting differently. What's up with you?"

"It's just that what I suspected was finally confirmed," Ayumi replied, looking away from Keima out of… was that shyness? No. More like shame. Clutching her bag strap, Ayumi muttered, "You aren't as bad as we all thought."

"I don't need your apology," Keima said, though there was no bite to his tone. "Besides, I was forced into this."

"But Shiori… okay, first of all, I was actually there during the strike," Ayumi admitted, and before Keima could complain that the progress report was unnecessary, she continued, "and I saw everything. You didn't just help her out: you _changed_ her! I didn't force you to do that, Keima."

"I just don't half ass things, Ayumi," Keima objected, noticing the sudden change in name. She really had gotten more comfortable with him, and it slightly frightened the God of Conquests. Just like with Shiori, this new found relationship - which Keima hoped was purely platonic - could cause a lot of problems, mostly for his gaming schedule. On the other hand, Keima could see if there was really a Heroine in the Real, one that was worth saving. "Anyway, I'll be going now."

Switching out his shoes, Keima passed by the runner. He managed to catch a glimpse of her expression: hesitation was plastered all over it. Keima knew what was going to happen. All of the necessary flags were raised, after all. Still, the gamer wasn't sure if this was the route he wanted to follow. Well, that choice wasn't up to him.

It was up to Ayumi.

"Keima, walk me home."

* * *

What is love?

Well, if you were to define it as a process, then this is what love would look like, according to Keima Katsuragi.

First, there was the after school event. It could be anything, really: doing club activities, cleaning the classroom, even holding a tutoring session. The most common type of after school event was to walk the Heroine home.

Next was the exchange of information. They'd ask for each others' email addresses and phone numbers: as simple as that. Normally, this was done near the end of the after-school event; using the example above, they'd exchange info after they reach the Heroine's house.

Following this exchange was the first date. While it was not the start of love like most people believed, it _was_ the thing that had the most impact on the success rate of the Capture, aside from the first impression. Usually these dates would come in the form of Events, usually at some place of interest such as the movie theater or a carnival.

Once those steps were done and assuming that the date was a success, generating Love Points was fairly automated: the girl would ask for more after-school events and dates till she generated enough Love Points to safely confess to.

This is how love worked, and sadly, this was the route that Keima was on concerning Ayumi Takahara.

"Geez, it's gotten dark," Ayumi noticed, oblivious to Keima's internal rant. They were currently on step one: the after-school event, after a rather good "first" impression as well. "I hope Pop isn't too worried."

"I'm sure if you'd run, Ayumi, you'd get there in no time," Keima replied.

Ayumi, flattered by the complement, objected, "Eh, I'm not really that fast. I still have a lot of room to improve."

"So," started Keima, hoping that the small talk was enough to let him question her, "why did you ask me to walk you home?"

"You wouldn't leave a girl to walk home by herself, right, Keima?"

She was met by silence.

Ayumi sighed, "I guess you really are a jerk sometimes. Alright, I'm… kinda interested in you."

"Interested?" Keima took the effort to look away from his PFP screen in order to read Ayumi's expression.

Luckily, there were no signs of love on her face.

Unluckily, the sight was just _jaw-dropping_. It was just like a CG in a galge. The moonlight reflected off her complexion, making her look like someone not of this world. Someone unreal. The look on her face matched her ethereal features; she looked at Keima with unwavering eyes whose strength was out of this world. He almost couldn't break the gaze.

"I've met so many people here at Mai-High. Some artsy, some athletic, others funny, still others charismatic… but you're different. You're selfish, cold, and calculative. You never want to deal with other people. On the other hand… you can change people. I've never met anyone like you."

She was met with silence. Ayumi was far from comfortable with this. Looking at his unreadable expression, Ayumi felt completely out of her element. She was used to living a rather cheerful life driven by comedy shows and food. Things would only get serious when she started to run, but even then, she had the will to push herself to move just an inch faster than before. Surrounded by caring friends and fulfilling passions, Ayumi's life was never all that unnerving.

Until Keima Katsuragi entered the faculty room on that fateful day.

The deafening silence remained unbroken till they reached Ayumi's house. Awkwardly, Ayumi stood in front of the gate to her humble abode, staring at the boy who continued to play games as if she was made of thin air.

' _How long will he continue to ignore me!?'_ mentally whined Ayumi, her patience waning. Raising her clenched fist, she brought it down on his head with enough force to get his attention. She heard him grunt, his glare he shot her almost giving her goosebumps. Instead, she puffed her cheeks as she crossed her arms, asking, "Hey, aren't you gonna say anything?"

"Goodbye and farewell," the gamer muttered, slithering away from the athlete.

"Hold it right there, mister!" Ayumi cried, grabbing a fistful of collar. She pulled him back and spun him around, forcing him to look at her. "I just told you something really embarrassing, Keima, so you better tell me something in return!"

Desiring to end the day, Keima decided to follow her for now, saying, "Alright, what's on your mind, Ayumi?"

Not a soul knew what she had asked him. The only thing that was certain was that they stood in front her house for another good hour and that Keima left chilled to the core.

* * *

"Aw man, exams are tomorrow."

"Hey, at least there's a chance that Kanon's gonna come!"

"Oh, did you check out that meat bun place that just opened up?"

"Cool! Wanna go there later?"

All of this was tuned out. The words of side characters required no attention.

"I can see the Ending," the Capturing God muttered, smirking as he and the Heroine embraced the protagonist. As the words "Good End" flashed across the screen, Keima leaned back. Ah, it felt so good to be back to normal after saving Shiori and wrapping up Ayumi's tutoring.

He was especially grateful for the latter, since after that after-school event, the tension between them was thick. The tutoring sessions were awkward at best, asphyxiatingly tense at worse. Once the sessions were over, Keima would quickly leave without even hearing Ayumi's usual "goodbye."

Turns out she was more Real than he thought.

Keima, sighing, returned to his game and reset it in order to start another route. He had fifty minutes of lunch left; that would be good enough to wrap up this route and another if he could game with no interruptions.

Too bad there was an interruption right outside 2-B's classroom. Shiori Shiomiya stood in front of the doorway, the man who changed her life in full view. She clutched the book in her arms out of nervousness. There's no need to be nervous, Shiori. It was just Keima Katsuragi, the guy who gave her voice back and the man that-

She blushed, bringing her fingertips to her lower lips. Oh man, Keima was just so _charming_ when he pulled Shiori to his chest and kissed her. Thinking about it, he never talked to her after that day. Still, she just had to thank him. Not for the kiss, though! It was just for the courage he lent her, that's all. Definitely.

While Shiori drowned in her embarrassment, Ayumi stood up from her desk and approached Keima. Concern in her voice, the runner said, "You've been avoiding me lately, Keima. Is there a problem."

"None, Takahara," Keima replied, his gaze not leaving the PFP. "Besides, even if I had a problem, you aren't obligated to help me."

Noticing the change from "Ayumi" to "Takahara," the girl winced. She knew that the question would be a bit touchy, but did Keima have to shut her out because of it? Jeez, she thought they were at the very least acquaintances...

"But Keima-"

"You're calling him "Keima" now?" a female voice asked. Turning around, Ayumi saw Miyako Terada, a blank look on her face. Slightly embarrassed, Ayumi blushed and put a few more inches between her and Keima. "Pretty different from 'Otamega', huh? You two sure got close in the span of a few days. Just what has be been 'tutoring' you?"

"E-Eh!? He's just been helping me out! We aren't 'close' or anything: just friends," Ayumi waved the accusation off. The long haired girl's expression remained unconvinced. Sweating bullets, the runner turned to the gamer, hoping that he'd help her out of the situation. His attention was glued to the game. No help there. Ayumi turned back to her friend and said, "Look, I can call him by that name!"

She faced Keima and said, "Hey, Otamegii!"

"Otamega + Katsuragi, eh?" Miyako noticed, her neutral expression turning into a smirk. Dragging the frozen athlete away, she continued, "Looks like Chihiro and I have a lot of questions to ask. Let's go, Ayumi."

Pleased that the girl that caused him a ton of anxiety was gone, Keima continued to game in peace… till yet another obstruction appeared to stop him from gaming. As Keima turned to face the person who tapped his shoulder, Keima cursed the Real. _'What's with all these random encounters!?'_

"...Fujiidera," Keima said mostly to himself, wondering if he got the name of the bespectacled library committee head correctly. She looked rather plain. Her height and figure were average, and her face was okay at best. Her eyes, though, were very cold.

"Katsuragi," said the girl, confirming his internal question, "The student council would like your help."

Help. That's what got him into so much trouble. If it wasn't for him helping that librarian, he wouldn't have had his first kiss taken away on an impulse. He wouldn't have impressed Ayumi. She wouldn't have brought up…

...no. Keima didn't want to think about it. Instead, he dedicated his waning energy to addressing the stern girl, "And what do I get out of this?"

"Hmph, rather selfish for someone Shiomiya looks up to," Fujiidera huffed, crossing her arms. Keima held no remorse. He had been called far worse than "selfish" in the past. "I'll keep my less… savory comments on your demeanor to myself. Anyway, the student council is willing to return to you one 'Play Field Personal' that Ms. Nikaidou confiscated from you a few months ago."

Ah, actual negotiations? Keima liked that. Negotiations were supposed to bring the two parties negotiating to a compromise, meeting in the middle. With Ayumi's route, it seemed that she held all the power since the blackmail was in her control. If he wanted to, Keima could have just dug up dirt on the runner to level the playing field, but he surmised that it'd be faster to just go along with it and obey her whims.

Coming from that fiasco, Keima felt slightly glad that he had a semblance of control. Now, he could actually weigh the pros and cons. Alright, cons: the council would probably drop a load of work on him, which would detract from his gaming time. This would be especially bad coming from his game-deprived tutoring arc.

Pros: he would get his PFP back. He remembered that PFP. It was one of the old editions, so the battery in it held less charge than the one he was playing with at the moment. Plus, there were a few major bugs in it, such as the WiFi randomly hard-locking the system and requiring a restart. Still, he had a game cartridge inserted in that PFP. The story wasn't profound. The music was a six out of ten. The art was amateur at best. The only reason why the game was notable was that Keima had yet to finish it: a rarity.

So obviously, he agreed in a heartbeat.

"We didn't even have to inform you about what was required of you," Fujiidera mused, inwardly commenting on how the rumors were rather spot on. Still, as she promised, she kept the harsh statements to herself. "Oh well, it's agreed. Assist us with this problem, and we will return the piece of gaming hardware to you."

"So, when are we starting?" the Capturing God asked, standing up from his desk. He failed to notice the short haired girl behind him who was staring holes into his back. "And when _are_ you going to explain my task?"

"I guess I could start now. Have you ever heard of the Women's Martial Arts Club?"

"Nope."

"I see. Anyway, the head of that club is a rather intimidating woman who goes by the name of 'Kusunoki Kasuga'. She's unparalleled in the field of combat sports."

"Sounds like quite the asset."

"Yes, she should be. Unfortunately, Kusunoki's impeccable skill and no-nonsense attitude make her unapproachable, and as a result-"

"-the club's basically deserted, I assume. I don't see why that would be a problem of the Student Council, though. In fact, one less club should make things like budgeting easier on the council."

"That'd be the case for the nth Light Music Club. Inconveniently, both the Men's and Women's Martial Arts clubs are clubs core to the club program of Mai High. Look at your school emblem, Katsuragi."

Keima looked down towards his uniform. There was a hexagon-shaped patch on the left side of his chest depicting a woman in the center. It had the words "Maijima 1888" sewn onto it. Keima questioned, "What about it?"

Pushing up her glasses, Fujiidera continued, "The six points on the hexagon represents the six attributes that the school wishes to uphold in its students: purity, wisdom, creativity, courage, prudence, and cooperation. The Martial Arts clubs were created to represent 'courage'. Because of this, the club has a minimum dedicated budget as dictated in the council's constitution, and if the club doesn't have enough members to function and compete, it's a waste of funds."

"So why call on me? I'm sure you've heard the rumors that say I'm an antisocial nerd who only plays games, and you probably agree with most of them. There are countless more students who are way more 'socially adept'. Why not have them do it?"

"We've tried in vain. We threw many people at her, but Kusunoki refused to change. Her case became a lost cause, and the rest of the Student Council had decided to just wait for her to graduate. Then, I met you.

"I admit, I hardly see you as an extroverted person. Still, you helped Shiori. It was obvious that she was having problems opening up to people and speaking her mind. Now, after less than a week with you, she's suddenly expressing her opinion, albeit timidly. Even so, it's a miracle that she even took the first step."

"And you think I'll be able to help Kusunoki be more down-to-earth?"

"...I know so," Fujiidera said, flashing a small smile for the first time since the conversation started, which startled Keima. "After seeing the genuine change in my close colleague, my close friend? I believe that you're a miracle worker, Katsuragi."

They finally reached the room of the Martial Arts club. Looking at Keima one last time, the council member said, "Good luck."

Keima didn't respond, barely giving her a glance as his fingers glided along the PFP. An opinion of someone of the Real meant little to him, though the feelings expressed by Fujidera were too pure to ignore completely. Seeing the glance, Fujidera nodded her head, satisfied with the talk.

She turned to walk away, saying, "Take care of Shiori for me, Keima."

He waited for her to round the corner before whispering, "...I will."

* * *

 **Hi. It's been a while. No excuses this time around; I've just been neglecting my story. Not sure when I'll update again. Might be next week or next year. I've got an outline in mind, though, so it won't take _too_ long. I'll be there; will you? (Totally not stolen outro btw.)**

 **By the way, if there are any grammatical or factual errors, leave your complaints in a review. I'll get to it eventually.**

 **Sidenote: More than half the chapter was written a year ago. Hehe. You might notice a change in writing style, though hopefully it's not too different. Oh well, we'll see.**


	5. Enter Kusunoki Kasuga

_Connection Five: Enter Kusunoki Kasuga_

* * *

The dojo of the Women's Martial Arts club was an interesting place. While a lot of people associate martial arts with loud guttural noises as combatants would fly across the room, matching each other blow for blow, the room was quiet and tranquil. It reflected the other side of combat sports, a side that brought people close to inner focus and meditation.

Speaking of meditation, one practitioner was deep in it when Keima slid aside the door to the dojo. The first thing he noticed about the woman was her stunning beauty. The martial artist had a flawless complexion rivaling the pale color of milk. That contrasted with the long brown locks of hair cascading down her shoulders. Moving down from her hair, her face held perfect symmetry, not a blemish in sight. As for her height, even though she was sitting in seiza, Keima could tell that she was heads above the average girl. Even he would struggle to stand shoulder to shoulder with her. To top off the list, she had God-given proportions, with a slender waist, ample chest, and large hips. This girl named Kusunoki Kasuga just looked perfect.

In sharp contrast, however-

"…It's rude not to knock on the door before entering someone else's place," Kusunoki said, opening her eyes. Her expression was the definition of stoic – if Keima hadn't seen her lips move, she could've passed as a statue and he would've bought it. Unlike her facial features, her body was fluid; as she rose to meet her unannounced guest, she got out of her seiza effortlessly. Not a single muscle movement was extraneous: the definition of efficiency.

Yep, the rumors were totally on point. Kusunoki Kasuga was truly a stoic beauty, a weird mix of grace and firmness. So how was he going to assist her? He was going to have to go through his mental catalog of games and routes yet again…

Scratching his face, Keima looked to the side, a little uncomfortable being in her intimidating presence. He replied, "Er… I'm sorry. I- "

"You reek," the martial artist interrupted, "of weakness. Straighten your back. Real men don't slouch."

Caught up in Kusunoki's pace, the Capturing God obeyed. Inwardly, he winced. She already saw him as weak and unreliable, so if he ever found something she needed help with, he couldn't use that as a flag. He's practically forced to become her disciple in order to get closer to her. Still, in the current state of affairs she'd just redirect him to the Men's Martial Arts club. He needed to create a situation where it needed to be _her_ teaching him. Keima concluded that it'd be best for him to back off and regroup, maybe wait for an event opportunity to show up.

Luckily, it seemed like Kusunoki agreed. "You're still unsightly. I urge you to come back only when you cease emanating frailty."

Choosing to not look a gift horse in the mouth, the gamer took his unceremonious leave. Pulling out his beloved PFP, he started thinking, _'What kind of flag would get me that Kusunoki discipleship I need? …Ah, this is too much work! All I wanna do is play games! Tsk, is that game even worth this much trouble? You know what? If I don't get an event this instant, I'm going home- '_

 ** _Bump._** As Keima rounded the corner, he smacked right into a school delinquent. Beside said delinquent were two others just like him. Dusting off his chest, the truant commented, "Hmph, that hurt. Wat'cha lookin' at, punk?"

Keima supposed that they at least _tried_ to look intimidating, with their squared shoulders and feral smirks. All they really looked like, though, were background characters: a bunch of extras in the crowd. Games nowadays rarely gave out those types of roles. Still, no matter what the gamer thought of the losers in front of him, a three on one clash would certainly result in Keima getting injured, and the more time he had to spend in the infirmary, the less time he could spend playing games.

Keima was going to keep his derogatory remarks to himself when he thought, _'Wait, maybe this is the flag I need! Okay, so first, I insult the delinquents. They'll get agitated and attack me. The noise of the ensuing brawl would certainly rouse Kusunoki's curiosity, especially since we're right outside her dojo. She'll come outside, and since I look less suspicious than the delinquents, she'll clobber them. I suddenly become awe inspired and beg to become her disciple. Yeah, that sounds about right. Time to execute.'_

"Stand aside, Parsley Boys," Keima said, pushing against the guy's chest with one hand. As the God of Conquests predicted, Parsley Boy #1 refused to budge. Instead, a vein on his head started to bulge. The delinquent raised a fist, ready to clobber the nerd. Perfect. Commence plan "Get beat up."

Right before the first punch landed, a female voice was heard. "Hey, stop right there! I'm calling a teacher!"

Being the unwavering thugs that they were… the Parsley Boys turned tail and were routed. Grinning at his success, Keima turned around, ready to kiss up to Kusunoki, only to see a familiar face. The owner of the face smirked, putting her hands on her hips and saying, "Ew, what's with that creepy smile, Katsuragi? You're making me regret saving you."

Ayumi!? Shouldn't this twerp be eating lunch or whatever girls do in their lunch breaks? Why was she here? Keima surmised that she wanted to continue the conversation the two had in the classroom earlier. Why was she actively going out of her way to pursue him? He tried to recall-

' _Grr… you're a real ass, Otamegane.'_

They weren't originally the best of friends. While she wasn't the president of the Anti-Otamegane club, she was far from his avid supporter. She always made her disgust in him and his hobbies very clear.

' _Trust me; I don't enjoy this arrangement either. I_ have _to do this, though.'_

She had a reason to get closer to him, though. Her desire to run and compete in the sport she loved was strong enough to make her endure even _his_ unwelcoming presence.

' _I just felt bad for her, you know?'_

Empathy. While she was unyielding in going after the things she wanted, she was aware of the people around her. She wasn't detached from the world – a shame, really. Still, it showed another side of her. Like a heroine in one of Keima's games.

' _You've been avoiding me lately, Keima. Is there a problem?'_

Was she trying to empathize with him too?

' _But, Keima…'_

...

' _E-Eh!? He's just been helping me out! We aren't 'close' or anything: just friends.'_

He didn't need empathy from the real, and if that's all she wanted to express, he'd stop that route before it started.

"Argh, why did you have to go and ruin my flag!?" Keima exclaimed, slowly advancing on the track and field runner, the latter slowly giving him ground. She was starting to get a little freaked out. Still, Ayumi kept her calm and let her friend vent, even if she didn't even know what he was miffed about. He continued, "It's like you go out of your way to make things harder for me, Real woman!"

The gaming lingo went in one ear and out the other. Flag? Real? Despite this, she was socially attuned enough to know that Keima was stressing out. Maybe she piled just a _bit_ too much onto his plate. Trying her best to diffuse the situation, Ayumi replied, "I-I don't know what you're talking about! Sure, I _kinda_ forced you to help me with my grades and help that library girl, but it's not like I go out of my way to torment you!"

Keima saw the look in her eyes and knew she couldn't understand. Bottling up the frustration, he broke eye contact and said, "Never mind. Since you're the one who broke the flag, you're the one that's gonna help me make a new one."

Not really giving it much thought - only wanting to help a friend out - she replied, "Um, sure!"

Little did the two know that a certain someone was eavesdropping.

* * *

School past seven 'o clock in the evening was dead. Almost no one was around. Janitors in Japanese schools were non-existent, and most teachers and students would have high-tailed it by six-thirty. The only ones staying would be the ones who wanted to squeeze in just an extra bit of practice or the unfortunate people tasked with locking up the rooms… or two people having a meeting in an empty classroom.

"Kusunoki Kasuga, huh?" murmured Ayumi, letting the new information marinate a bit. "I've definitely heard of her before; one of my club senpais is a huge fan of Mai High's Sapphire Princess. So, you have to make her more approachable?"

"Simply put, yes, and in order to do so, I have to get close to her. No one would willingly change their core philosophy for a stranger, after all. Still, since she _is_ so unapproachable, it would be hard to become a friend in the first place. I _did_ have a plan that involved her saving me from a gang, but- " Keima shot her a glare. "- _someone_ had to go and ruin it. While I have other ideas in mind, I'd like to know more about Kasuga. This is where you come in, Ayumi."

"Oh, what do you want me to do?"

"Just give me some of Kasuga's parameters."

The athlete looked exasperated. "Eh, there you go again with that game lingo."

"Parameters," Keima clarified, "are basically some basic facts about her, like age of birth, height, weight, bust-waist-hip measurements- "

"W-Why do you need to know how stacked she is in order to become friends with her!?" A blushing Ayumi slammed her hands on the desk she was sitting behind, making the God of Conquests flinch. Did she completely misjudge Keima's character? Was he really a 2D loving lecher that the rumors say he is? "I said I'd help you out, but if you're going to be like this- "

"I would argue that all information – including her measurements – is important in order to understand Kusunoki Kasuga's context. She could have been harassed because of her desirable proportions- _gnkh!_ "

Ayumi rolled up a piece of paper and not-so-gently smacked Keima with it.

"Do your legs hurt from jumping to that conclusion, Keima?"

"That's how it works… in games."

Cue another smack.

"Learn to separate games from reality, you doofus!" exclaimed the runner. _'Ah, why does he have to say such creepy things so nonchalantly?'_

"So are you gonna get me the info?"

"…Fine, but don't be surprised if I fail to get the more… interesting tidbits," Ayumi compromised. "Anyway, what are you going to do once you get her 'parameters'?"

"Like I said earlier, I have a few plans in mind, and knowing all the extra info would make picking a flag easier."

Pulling out his PFP, Keima started to pace the room while Ayumi's fingers pecked at her smartphone. Some routes he had stewing in his mind were fairly archetypal. One was the original plan - getting beat up by the Parsley Gang - but then rounding up all the delinquents and placing them in front of the dojo while Kusunoki was inside during lunch time would be complicated, and even if he did succeed, now that Ayumi knew what he was doing, she'd be upset if he sent himself to the infirmary of his own volition. Another route would be forcing Ayumi to become Kusunoki's disciple and have her become closer to Kusunoki in Keima's place, but he knew the former wouldn't sacrifice her precious track-and-field time for martial arts training.

Hm… so many choices.

"E-Excuse me."

The two teens turned their attention towards the door. Illuminated in the moonlight was a lithe figure with a small stature. Her arms were wrapped around her chest, clutching a book. Slowly, Keima's eyes grew wider out of surprise as Ayumi asked, "Shiori?"

"Um, h-hi. Can I talk to Keima alone for a bit? Ah, i-it won't take long; I promise!" the librarian exclaimed. The boy couldn't help but notice how she was quivering in her boots. While she was still overly nervous from simply talking to people she had already met before, it was leaps and bounds better than a few days ago. The old Shiori wouldn't have even approached him.

"Go ahead, Shiori," Ayumi half-heartedly replied, most of her focus being diverted to grilling that senpai of hers. Noticing that Ayumi gave her the "okay," Shiori, mustering all the courage she could find in her 5'2" frame, grabbed Keima's wrists and walked away towards another empty classroom. Instantly, she felt her face warm up; she was sure her face turned into an interesting shade of red.

S-she did it! She took Keima by the hand! Well… by the wrist, but still, it was progress! A week ago, she would have scoffed at anyone who would have told her she'd be daring enough to grab her crush. Heck, Shiori never would have thought she'd _have_ a crush to crush on. But now, it was a reality, and Shiori didn't really know what to do. The opportunity to pursue these… feelings popped up when she overheard Keima and Ayumi talking about some nefarious plan. All she had to do was slide herself into that plan and hopefully get closer to him through it.

While Shiori was close to swooning, Keima's expression was one of exasperation. He was _really_ regretting kissing her that day. It was unnecessary; she was already given confidence from his lengthy speech. Still, he kissed her. Was he just caught up in the moment? He shouldn't have. He wasn't a denizen of the Real; he was above such impulses. So why did he do it? If only he could reload an old save game and undo the kiss. Ah, why was Reality such a bad game?

Now inside a classroom down the hall from where Ayumi was, Shiori turned around to face him while still looking like a tomato. She would have died of embarrassment if she didn't notice the very slight, almost non-existent tinge of red on the gamer's cheeks. Realizing that he could be just as nervous as she was gave her the courage to push on.

"...Keima."

"Yes, Shiori?"

"...Why did you kiss me?"

"I'd… rather not answer that," Keima said, breaking eye contact.

"O-Oh." Shiori instantly deflated. Was this how her first crush was going to end? Slewn by cold words in the least romantic way possible? Shiori pressed, "B-But Keima, are you saying that we could never be-"

"I highly doubt it." He refused to look her in the eye. While he claims to be on a different plane from Reality, he still couldn't bear to completely crush her.

"So you're saying there's a chance?" Her hands darted for his own, dropping the book she had been clutching to her chest and forcing him to notice her. Caressing his hand, she continued, "I-I'm not asking you for an answer right now. I just came here to help you."

"...Why?"

"Because you helped me."

* * *

 **Yo. Sorry to keep you waiting. It's a bit short, but hopefully it's sweet. I may or may not introduce another character next chapter: you'll just have to wait and see. As always, if I missed any spelling or grammar mistakes, or if you have any questions, leave 'em in a review. I'll (hopefully) address your concerns within a reasonable time... as long as college doesn't kill me.**

 **Patch Notes:**

 **2016-11-3: Fixed Kusunoki's hair color from black to brown.**


	6. Enter Kanon Nakagawa

_Connection Six: Enter Kanon Nakagawa_

* * *

"Here are her parameters," said Ayumi, handing Keima a document that detailed various facts about Kusunoki Kasuga.

He decided to run through the list. Gender and age weren't at all notable. Her birthday, April 10, wasn't really close enough to take advantage of. Her measurements, as he suspected, were top-tier; she definitely wasn't faking her exercise. Her height wasn't surprising either. She was even taller than him, albeit only by a centimeter. She weighed more than him too by a kilogram. Mai-High's Sapphire Princess was an 18 year old student in her third year of senior high - no twists there either. What interested him the most were her family ties. She was the successor to her family's dojo, even though she had an older sister. Interesting…

Still, it wasn't enough.

"This can't be it. There has to be more for me to work with," Keima mused as he sifted through the file again.

"Are you kidding me? I even got her bust-waist-hip measurements for you! I had to grill the school's physical therapist for those details, and look what she gave me!" the runner whined, showing Keima a brochure entitled "How to Discover Your Sexuality."

"I wish you the best of luck in your search."

Ayumi balled up the brochure and smacked him.

"Ugh, just forget it. I'm not getting you any more Kusunoki information, okay?"

"It's alright. The kind of extra information I need can only come about from investigation," Keima said, pocketing his PFP and standing up. It was common in games. In order to figure out what kind of flag would trigger the heroine's route, the protagonist would stumble upon some kind of interesting event. While games conveniently weaved this event into the daily lives of the characters, Keima would have to consciously look out for the event and take the opportunity when it presents itself. He just hoped that it wouldn't take forever to reach that part.

"Investigate?" Shiori asked. "I'd like to join, i-if you don't mind."

Wow, was she trying to trigger a flag with him? Hah, he'd stop her right in her tracks. He turned around, preparing to give her the biggest grimace he could muster when he saw Ayumi shoot a glare at him. Could she read his mind or something?

"I'm sure Keima doesn't mind," Ayumi asked, sending Keima _the look_. From Ayumi's perspective, forcing those two to hang out together would help both these recluses with their social skills, which they desperately need. "Right, Keima?"

Shiori blushed but managed to resist hiding behind her book. Did Ayumi know about her feelings for Keima? If so, was the athlete rooting for her? What a relief! The bookworm noticed how Ayumi would glance at Keima when she thought no one was looking. The way Ayumi's eyes would glint as she talked to Shiori's savior never went unseen. Heck, even though he was cold to the librarian, Keima never seemed to be able to refuse Ayumi despite the clear annoyance on his face. Taking all that into account, it was nice that Ayumi seemed to be shipping her and Keima together.

"...But-"

"You know what'll happen," the girl interjected, putting her hands on her hips. "Right?"

"Fine, we'll go after school. Happy?"

"Very."

Shiori cried internally, _'...Auah, why do they talk like they're an old married couple!?'_

* * *

"And you want me to eat lunch with you… why?" asked the Capturing God, shooting Ayumi a questioning glance.

Currently, they were on the rooftop of the high school. Normally, the rooftop, while not packed, was relatively occupied by several cliques, but a certain someone was keeping everyone's eyes peeled on 2-B's doors. Miyako, ever the opportunist, decided to take her friends to the empty rooftop despite how ecstatic one of her two besties was.

It wasn't Ayumi, who said, "I noticed how you never go out to eat lunch. Don't you get hungry?"

"Hungry? Impossible," Keima scoffed, pushing up his glasses. "I always have a full stomach!"

"...Really?"

"In games, of course."

Two girls resisted the insatiable urge to sigh. One surprisingly didn't have that urge, and she passed up the chance to make fun of the guy she loved to tease, all thanks to her newest obsession, one that she shared with most of the student body:

"I can't believe _the_ Kanon Nakagawa is coming to Mai-High!" Chihiro cheered, showing off a huge two-page spread of her teen magazine. Plastered on it was the pink haired idol in her element, performing "All 4 You" in front of a large crowd.

Ayumi couldn't help but admire the celebrity. Beautiful hair, a glowing complexion, fit figure, graceful moves, velvety voice, kind heart: it seemed that Kanon had it all, and it didn't surprise Ayumi that she was an acclaimed idol. While she wasn't envious, the runner couldn't help but get sucked in by the pinkette's charisma. A little embarrassing, considering it was just a picture - not even the real thing.

Hm… maybe Keima would get sucked in too. While she never saw him oogle any of his female classmates - after all, his attention was on that handheld - Ayumi had to wonder if Kanon's ethereal charm could capture his attention.

"Ne, Keima." Ayumi turned to look over to the infamous nerd, handing him a yakisoba-pan. While Chihiro's excitement was contagious, it seemed like Keima couldn't care less that an _idol_ , a person who performed on national television in front of thousands of fans, was going to his high school. Responding to her, he had just looked up from his PFP, barely giving her a glance. It was progress. A few days ago, he wouldn't even turn around to meet her eyes.

"What?" Keima commented, his features contorting into a grimace, not at the bread he had just accepted, but at her interrupting is gaming session..

"What do you think of idols?" asked Ayumi. Instantly, Keima's eyes glinted, and Ayumi winced. She knew what that look entailed. Her enthusiastic friend was going to go into one of his overly lengthy tirades-

"It depends. Are you talking about those idols on TV?" Keima said, finally turning his head towards her. While his sharp gaze looked piercing to her, Ayumi had no doubt that to Chihiro, it looked a tad creepy. Ayumi sighed. Trying to get her friends to accept this guy was definitely an uphill battle.

"The way you say that makes it seem like there are other kinds, Katsuragi," Miyako continued, seeming genuinely interested. Ayumi's hopes jumped up a bit. Maybe she was making progress with having Keima appear more appealing to her classmates, or maybe it was just Miyako's unassuming nature. Either way, it was nice for one of her friends to be nice to the nerd.

"There are," Keima said, raising an eyebrow at Miyako's sudden interest. "The idols you see on TV are archaic: simple relics of the past. This is the 21st Century: the era of game idols is upon us!"

Miyako, confused, tilted her head, asking, "I don't quite get what you mean."

"Idols in this world have one fatal weakness: time. As they get older, their age starts to wear them down. Wrinkles start to form, vices start to pop up, scandals force them to retire, secrets are revealed: as time goes on, Real idols get worse. On the other hand, time has a positive effect on idols in video games. They start to look better, sound better, and their stories get better. If you don't wanna get left behind, you'll have to jump on the 2D idol ship eventually."

"Hah, of course an Otamega like you would think that way," Chihiro interjected, feeling the desire to defend Kanon and put Keima in his place. "Idols in your games aren't real. They'll never be as fleshed out as _real_ idols because of their constraints. Once the game's done, they'll never learn new songs or dances; they'll be even more stagnant than real idols out of their prime."

Chihiro shot Keima an intense glare. Keima returned it and hastily retreated to his PFP. Ayumi winced. Just when things were going smoothly too. Miyako's brows furrowed.

"Ayumi, why did you even invite this guy?" questioned the girl. "Not only is he a creep: he's a buzzkill too."

"H-He can be relaxing to be around when he wants to!" Ayumi defended. Miyako nodded. Confronted by her peers, Chihiro's expression almost contorted into one of resignation.

Then Keima cackled at his PFP.

"Um… sure, Ayumi," said Chihiro, pulling out her magazine and flipping through it. Welp, she definitely didn't wanna to continue this conversation.

Then, she felt someone prod her shoulder. Miyako's concern was plastered all over her face. The long haired girl said, "You need to be careful, Ayumi. People are starting to associate you with him. While I don't mind Katsuragi, Chihiro and many others do, and I don't want you to have to make a choice between him and her."

"I think Chihiro will come around eventually, and I doubt people care about what friends I make."

Miyako internally shook her head. While there was no doubt in her mind that Kanon Nakagawa was the most popular 2-B student, there was also no doubt that Ayumi took spot number 2. She was the go-to when it came to interclass sports competitions, many girls in 2-B copied her hairstyle, and there was even an Ayumi fanclub (that Miyako was secretly the head secretary of).

"Alright," Miyako conceded, "if you're sure. You know-"

"I'm leaving, Ayumi," Keima butt in, leaving the three friends on the rooftop before either runner could stop him.

* * *

"I don't want to be affiliated with a Real girl like her, her friends don't want her to be affiliated with me; the only one who wants Ayumi and I to be 'friends' is Ayumi," mused the Capturing God, who retreated to the roof of the auditorium. "Her stubbornness knows no bounds. What a troublesome Real woman."

Oh well. He'd shove Ayumi, Shiori, and Kusunoki aside for now. He still had a huge chunk of his lunch break to play his games, and he wouldn't allow any of them to distract him. Making sure the door to the south building rooftop was locked - only people who knew the password could access it now - Keima made a beeline for his favorite bench and plopped down on it. Leaning back, he flicked the PFP's switch on and dove in.

* * *

"And don't forget to call after your classes are over. You have a photoshoot at 9 on the dot, so we have to leave as soon as possible."

"Yes, Okada, I will. See you later." Nodding her head in approval, Kanon's manager turned to the chauffeur of the limousine she was in and signaled for him to drive off.

Turning around, the pink-haired figure took in the sights. Maijima Private High School. It was a little daunting, going back to it. She'd be the focus of the whole school for the time of her stay. While she was used to being the center of attention, it was a little awkward trying to focus on the board while gazes bored into the back of her skull. Still, this was just another hurdle; she'd get over it. She was an idol, right?

 _'I know just the thing to get rid of the nerves.'_ thought Kanon, walking towards the auditorium building. As far as she knew, there were no official school functions that day, so there would be virtually no one around. The auditorium would give her the space she needed to calm herself down. Heck, she even knew how to access the rooftop, so she was practically guaranteed some alone time. Confidence filling her steps, Kanon strode up the steps, reaching the door to the rooftop.

' _Um… what did that kind receptionist tell me again? Oh yeah, 9-2-0-3-1-1.'_ She punched in the numbers, and as luck would have it, no one changed the code and the door swung wide open. How wonderful! Walking onto the rooftop, Kanon made a beeline for the guard rail, taking a good look at the view. The school was just as beautiful as she had remembered.

It was almost as beautiful as the view she had on stage at the awards.

"The best newcomer award…" Kanon whispered, disbelief still evident. "I tried my best; I did good."

She looked down at her uniform. Simple pink skirt and, aside from the Mai High emblem emblazoned over her left breast, it looked like a red version of a sailor-suit uniform that any other high school would have, be it public or private. For some reason, its simplistic look reminded the idol of her successful career. "To think that idols these days are super bubbly and cheerful… was it good that I was plain and old-fashioned?"

"Ah… I can finally be called a real idol!" Kanon exclaimed as the gravity of the situation finally hit her. "I can still feel everyone's cheers from yesterday's competition. Oh, it makes me feel so giddy just thinking about it!"

She felt like she was on air. Skipping alongside the guard rail, Kanon tried her best to calm herself down. While she didn't want the jitters, she didn't want a victory high either. "Alright, Kanon, today's the day for tests and studies; I need to focus on that. Auah! Idols sure have it hard."

All of a sudden, she heard a cough directly behind her. She felt heat instantly flare up on her cheeks, and she knew that her face became the color of strawberries. Whipping around, she faced the source of the cough, dusting her uniform and fixing her glasses. She knew, from her line of work, that first impressions were everything, so she'd give what was hopefully a fan the best five minutes of his life. _'I just hope he didn't notice my monologue - that would give my PR manager a bit more work to deal with.'_

"Hiya! I can't believe you know about this place," the idol cheerfully greeted, flashing the person on the bench a blinding smile that most guys would swoon from. Speaking of the guy, she didn't know what to think of him. He was probably around her age, judging from the signature high school cravat all boys in Mai High wore. Other than that, she couldn't really say much. Hopefully he was someone nice.

"My name," she extended her hand towards the occupied man, "is Kanon Nakagawa. It's a pleasure to meet you!"

"...'Kanon' who? I'm busy; don't talk to me," Keima coldly shot down, barely even giving the person in front of him a glance. _'I said_ nothing _would stop me from gaming the whole lunch break away, especially not this pink thing.'_

"Ah, I guess there are those people who still don't know me. Hahahahahahahahahahaha…" he heard her murmur. Hmph. Oh no, one person doesn't know who someone is. How shocking. Who do you think you are: some kind of idol?

He felt something cold press against his side. He gave it a cursory glance. Stun gun… oh wai-

Instantly, he felt a shock violently jolt his abdomen. The blow sent the charred nerd flying, leaving dark skid marks in his wake. He got up, pushing thoughts of gaming away for now. _'Okay, what happened there? She talked; I didn't. Then, she shocked me!? I feel like there's a few missing lines of dialogue you dropped, you shitty game! Where's the buildup!?"_

"I-I'm not an idol a-after all! Ha ha ha, it's all lies. You… stop making me feel insecure!" cried the pink haired loony.

She jumped onto the poor boy, pinning him to the ground. Holding her weapon skyward, she brought the stun gun down, aiming to zap his forgetful head off. Mustering every drop of athleticism in his scrawny body, Keima hastily tilted his head to the side. The stun gun barely missed, nearly grazing his cheek, which was glistening with sweat. Kanon's weapon made contact with the ground, causing dust to get thrown up. When Keima craned his head around to look at the damage, he saw a bunch of cracks where his head used to be.

"Why don't you know me!?" She brought her stun gun up again.

"A-At least let me save!"

"U-Um," someone interjected, "Keima? Is that Kanon Nakagawa?"

Instantly, Keima felt the weight pressing down on him leave. Grateful for some respite from _that woman's_ onslaught, he pushed himself up and walked towards the source of the voice. Though his vision was still blurry from the earlier blow, the God of Conquests could make out Shiori with a pile of fliers in her arms and the pink thing running towards the librarian with a smile on her face. While he didn't know why Shiori was here - probably here to ask for Keima's help in distributing the fliers, if he had to guess - he was happy that she distracted the pink demon. Now to save his game-

[Your file has corrupted.]

"Hiya! I'm humbled that you recognized me," the taller of the two greeted. She stole a flier from the top of Shiori's stack and whipped out the autographing pen she always had on her. Continuing, she asked, "What's your name?"

"A-Ah, S-Shiori Shiomiya-"

"Here you go, Shiori! I hope you like it." Kanon flashed her a smile, and it was so charismatic that even shy Shiori couldn't help but awkwardly smile back. Expertly balancing the stack on one hand, the librarian used the other hand to take the vandalized flier from the idol. The front - an advertisement for the new CD section of the library - was untouched, while the formerly blank back had a huge heart marked on it along with the words "Much love - Kanon Nakagawa".

"I-I don't know what to say," Shiori said. "I had never gotten the signature of a famous person before."

"Ah," Kanon said, waving the praise away, "I'm still a long way from becoming famous, to having my songs resonate in everyone's hearts!"

' _Well,'_ Keima internally interjected, _'your electrical current is resonating in my PFP. Congrats, you pink witch.'_

"S-So what class are you from? I'm from 2-C," Shiori asked, hoping to improve her people skills.

"Ah, I guess that makes us neighbors! I'm from 2-B!"

Shiori looked at the charred gamer, saying, "Oh, Keima never told me you two were classmates!"

Wait… this guy who didn't have an inkling as to who she was… shared a classroom with her!? Did he never pay attention to roll call or something? Did he never wonder "oh why is this Nakagawa person always absent"?

Blind with rage, she turned, whipping out her stun gun and zapped him with it. Keima saw stars as the blow knocked him back off his feet. Slowly getting used to the feeling of 10,000 volts shocking him, he was able to get back up before she could pounce on him again.

Looking betrayed, Kanon pointed her weapon at the bespectacled boy, sparks flying off the front. "I can't believe it. We're classmates, and you still don't know who I am!? I'm not an idol; I'm trash. _Trash!_ "

Shiori, realizing that she had gotten the one person she cared for hurt, winced, hiding behind the stack of fliers. While she wanted to help him up, she also didn't want to get caught in the crossfire. Those stun guns looked _painful_. _'I-I'm so sorry, Keima! I didn't know…'_

Kanon cradled herself in her arms. It would've looked cute and demure if her eyes weren't glazed over and if she wasn't armed. "Please, stop making me feel insecure… stop it…"

' _Please stop making my PFPs feel like bricks,'_ internally pleaded the nerd. _'Speaking of bricks, the damn thing's bricked! It won't even turn on! Oh, she's definitely out to get me!'_

"You… what is your name!?"

Sparks fly off her stun gun once more.

"K-Keima Katsuragi-"

"Keima…" The way she said it made it seem like just saying his name left a bitter taste in her mouth. "Mark my words; I shall return to defeat you!"

Determination filling her eyes, she turned heel and ran away, storming down the stairwell that led up to the rooftop. Making her displeasure known with each hard step, her mind slowly brewed a plan that would make even the most cold-hearted critic unable to resist her music. Oh, this "Keima" didn't know what he had coming. She'd definitely give it all she had. She even had that ace up her sleeve. Oh, it might make Okada furious with her, but Kanon couldn't help it.

She had to crush him.

* * *

"My PFP is broken," moaned Keima.

Next to Shiori, he was slumped outside the door to the Women's Martial Arts Clubroom. He looked worse for wear, like a shriveled up husk of his former self. Shiori couldn't bear to look at his poor state. He definitely couldn't to his "stake out" if he wasn't the slightest bit motivated.

What would get him on his feet again, though? The library had approximately 37 books on video games, though only two of them were in favor of them, and they were most likely outdated to boot. While she liked the guy, she wouldn't want to risk any vandalism of her precious, precious books.

Oh, speaking of books, Shiori was ecstatic. They were going to ship her the excess books they took out from the library to her house later! She was unfathomably excited to pour over that anthology she was one page away from finishing that was about-

She shook her head. Focus, Shiori! There was a down in the dumps Keima, and all she could do was fantasize about all the free books she'd be getting? How selfish of her.

Think, Shiori, think!

"Keima, don't you have something you need to do?" She had to get him to talk.

Luckily, he cared enough to lazily look her way, though from her perspective, it looked like a zombie whose neck just happened to break in the right direction. She'd take it. "What's the point… I just wanted to play a video game that the StuCo offered to give me. How am I supposed to do that now?"

"But Keima… aren't they offering to give you a PFP, not a game?"

Keima shot up. In all his sadness, he had forgotten one crucial fact. Even though the only thing he had been looking forward to was the game, that game came with a PFP; a PFP that actually worked! Fire in his eyes, he bellowed, "YEAH, LET'S GET THAT PFP!"

All of a sudden, the doors the two were camping next to swung open. Startled, the two jumped back, only to find a martial artist, desperation plastered on her face with a cat in her arms. It looked faint, heaving in her arms. Kusunoki looked at the two and said, "Please, help me save this cat!"

* * *

 **Hey, it's been a while. Sorry, finals was a crazy ride. So many sleepless nights... oh well, I'm glad it's over. Ez A. Anyway, this chapter might be the longest: 3,811, to be exact, so I hope that makes up for the delay.**

 **Some concerns.**

 **I hope that the pacing wasn't horrible. I made this over the course of a few weeks, after all. Had to work out Kusunoki's storyline and who to introduce next and whatnot. Hope it's still coherent. I also hope the grammar and tiny facts are okay. I only gave this a cursory glance when it came to proofreading since I desperately want this chapter out of the gate. Doesn't help that it's like 1:30 am here.**

 **OreGairu fanfiction. Been reading a whole ton; some good, some bad. Probably a bad idea to binge it, since I might accidentally write stuff with too much cynicism or self loathing. So yeah, tell me if anyone's out of character. I'll try to rewrite the chapter if the OOC moments are complete trash.**

 **Random stuff.**

 **Not sure who to introduce in the next chapter. Might be -, though introducing - or - could be interesting too. I've been hearing a lot of Mio's in the reviews, so maybe it'll be her. Who knows? Nothing's set in stone.**

 **Also, do you want to have the devils on the list of possible characters? They'd have no powers, but they'll have their own storylines and impact on the overall story. I don't wanna just have them cameo. So yeah, either they get their own storylines or they aren't in it at all... unless someone makes a really good case for a cameo.**

 **EDIT (12-20-16): Poll for the devils are on my profile.**


	7. Enter Chihiro Kosaka

_Connection Seven: Enter Chihiro Kosaka_

* * *

"This cat is normally prancing about and bothering me while I perform my katas, but as of recent, it simply ceased to move and be active," the long haired martial artist described to the other two students in the Women's Martial Arts clubroom.

They were all sitting down seiza style - the two recluses knew Kusunoki would demand no less - and were surrounding a white cat. It didn't look good. It hardly moved, expending energy only to breathe. Shiori reached out and stroked the cat. It mewed, so it wasn't completely out of it, though it did sound rather strange. There were only four games that featured detailed cat care, so this was somewhat out of Keima's league. Besides, he had more important things to think about; namely, he had a feeling that this event would let him see the Ending, so he had to pay attention.

"Erm, have you been feeding it regularly?" Shiori inquired, feeling for the cat's pulse. Unlike Keima, she had read up quite a bit on caring for animals, so all she had to do was recall some general information.

"Caring for this animal is out of my purview," Kusunoki said. Keima could tell that she was trying to remain stoic, but she was cracking. It was clear that she was concerned for the health of what was essentially her pet. She motioned towards the clubroom, and the Capturing God decided to take it all in. It was a simple studio room, much like many of the other clubrooms, albeit bigger than most since it was one of the core clubs. Contrasting its notable size was the surprising lack of things to take up that space. The clubroom was barren; aside from a drab school bag, a water fountain, a stack of softer mats, and a punching bag, there was nothing in it. Running his fingertips over the coarse tatami underneath him, he could see why. This was Kusunoki's room, and just like the girl herself, it was spartan.

"As your companion may have observed," Kusunoki continued, noticing Keima's wandering gaze, "even if I did care to nurture this cat, I lack the facilities to do so. Oh, and please forgive me for my manners. My name is Kusunoki Kasuga."

Her guard finally dropped enough to give him her name. Good sign.

"Ah, I-I'm Shinomi- I mean Shiori Shiomiya," the librarian stuttered, her innate shyness kicking in despite her intense concentration on her task. Her deft hands moved towards the cat's shoulders. Gently pinching the skin, she tugged upward and let go. The risen skin sank back into place rather slowly. That was concerning. As far as Shiori knew, the colloquial term was called "skin tenting." Normally, a cat's skin would quickly snap back into place after pinching and pulling. Since it returned slowly, it was a sign of moderate dehydration, which easily explained how listless the cat was acting.

The long haired girl noticed the glint in Shiori's eye. Kusunoki knew that look all too well. It reminded Kusunoki of the times when she sparred with her sister, Hinoki. Whenever her sister had that glint in her eyes, Hinoki would instantly find Kusunoki's weak spot and punish her for it. Those days are long gone, though. Shaking the nostalgia away, the martial artist commented, "It seems you have made a breakthrough, Shiomiya-dono."

"Please, S-Shiori's fine," the girl said, uncomfortable with Kusunoki's professionalism. "As for the cat, it'll be fine too, once it receives water. Can you please fetch some water for me?"

"Gladly." Kusunoki rose and made her way towards the water fountain. Taking a closer look at it, not much was remarkable. There was one thing out of place, though. Near the hose that connected the fountain to whatever reservoir the water came from was a patch of tatami the size of Keima's fist that was darker than the rest. He also saw that there was some duct tape wrapped around part of the hose. Hm...

After watching Kusunoki return and hand Shiori the water, Keima asked Kusunoki, "Was your water fountain repaired recently?"

"Yes… er-"

"Katsuragi."

"Katsuragi-dono. It had been leaking for quite some time now, so I used part of the club's budget and bought materials to repair it. While handiwork isn't my field of expertise, I was able to stop the fountain from leaking. Why bring it up?"

"Because I think I know why your cat became dehydrated," Keima answered, pushing up his glasses. "It used to come over to the hole in the fountain's hose and sip water from it. Now that you patched it up, it had nowhere to get water from. Since you've never seen it leave this room, that meant that the only times the cat could have hydrated itself is when you weren't around. Because you practice for hours on end, this means that for long periods of time, this cat was without water, which led to this."

"I see," Kusunoki said, nodding her head. Slowly, her lithe form dipped till her forehead was pressed against the tatami mat. Keima raised an inquisitive brow at her bowed form, while Shiori tipped the cup into the listless cat's maw. In between sips, it purred. Prostrating herself before these two, the warrior pleaded, "I apologize for the burden, but I wish for you two to take care of this cat in my stead. I… I feel that I am unfit to care for it."

"Why?"

"This cat," Kusunoki coldly remarked, "is a sign of weakness, and as a martial artist, I can't let such feeble sights distract me from my goal."

"Then, now more than ever, I insist that you learn how to take care of it."

"...I don't understand."

Looking at Shiori cradling the cat in her arms as it snuggled up against her, Keima replied, "I think you'll find that even cute things have the strength you seek, Kusunoki Kasuga."

* * *

Keima nodded, a satisfied smirk on his face. He could See the Ending. All he had to do was get this cute-hating woman to find the value in cute things. He estimated that it would take around a week of caring for the white puffball, give or take a few days.

He flipped out his smartphone and checked the time. 4 'o clock. On a Saturday, that would mean practically no one that wasn't putting in overtime into their clubs was around. Ah, the word "saturday." It reminded him that he'd have to live through that one week of Kusunoki without a PFP. His elation died a little. It was going to be hard. He had a few galge on his phone, but the phone versions were so bad he was thinking of just waiting it out and playing their PFP ports instead. Still, in case he suffered withdrawal, he had a back-up.

Speaking of back, someone just patted his. Startled, Keima whipped around, only to see a smiling Ayumi with her hair still tied up. He guess she just got off from training, since sweat glistened off her skin, and she was still in her pink lemonade shirt and track shorts. Those red shorts irked him. Reality was trying to hard to portray Ayumi as some kind of heroine, right? With the gorgeous sunset lighting and secluded location? Reality should have just gone all the way and give her bloomers instead of track shorts like in virtually all galge. As always, Reality was just a shitty-

"Hey, I thought I told you to stop leering at my legs," Ayumi said, though unlike the other times, there was no malice in her words. "Anyway, still at school?"

"Made some progress with Kusunoki."

"Mou, the way you worded that made it sound like you were making a pass at her or something," commented the runner, pouting. "Don't go playing around with Kusunoki's heart. Or any other maiden's heart, for that matter."

Keima shrugged. "You know what I mean."

They walked out the gates side by side. This was when the lack of a PFP hit Keima hard. While walking home with Ayumi wasn't an uncommon occurrence, he could always rely on his PFP to keep him comfortable. Now, with zero consoles in his hand, he was out of luck. He could always just tune Ayumi out, but to be honest, it was counterproductive to both of their interest, and while he could hold a conversation rather easily, he could only do so with Conquest targets. Ayumi wasn't to be Captured, so he'd just have to go along with whatever flags Ayumi raised.

"Hey, Keima," Ayumi started, looking away from the Capturing God towards the sunset. "I'm sorry Chihiro wasn't that… pleasant when you two were debating earlier."

So she was concerned, huh? "It's no skin off my back. I don't really care what she calls me."

He suddenly felt a hand tug on his sleeve. Stopping, Keima turned around to face the runner, and if Reality wasn't pushing her heroine status earlier, It sure was now. The sun was melting into the horizon, so the gentle red hues caressed Ayumi's features perfectly. Her doe eyes looked sharp. Keima backed up a bit; he didn't want to get enveloped in her pace. Her hand was still holding on firmly to his uniform.

"A-are you sure it doesn't bother you?"

Their eyes locked.

"When I told you that I separate myself from the Real, I wasn't joking," Keima replied. _'W-why can't I look away?'_

"So what about us?" Ayumi's hand snaked up from the cuff of his sleeve to grasp his bicep, though he couldn't see it; Keima's eyes still couldn't break contact with Ayumi's. "Are you detached from our relationship too?"

"That's different."

"How?"

"Tch," Keima groaned, finally able to look away from her alluring gaze. Her grip on his arm was still strong, though. "Why are you asking?"

Keima couldn't see Ayumi's lips curl into a smile laced with melancholy. "I really want to be your friend, Keima. I hope you know that."

"...I do."

* * *

 _'W-what is this?'_

After plopping into his seat, Keima had peeked into his desk, only to find a peculiar jewel case inside it. Weird. He didn't remember bringing a CD to school. Examining it closer, he was sure that it wasn't his. On what he assumed was the back of the jewel case was a tracklist for _her_ album. Keima could feel shivers go down his spine. With an ominous feeling settling in his gut, the Capturing God flipped over the case. Scrawled all over the cover of Kanon's album were clean yet harsh strokes of kana written in red. Was this blood…?

" _'Please come to the place where we first met five minutes after lunch break starts'_ ," muttered Keima, reading the writing on the CD case, " _'because if you don't arrive on the dot, I'll have you punished. Love, K.'_."

Keima didn't know what to do. His first thought was that he definitely didn't want to go. She was certainly going to send him reeling with that nasty stun gun of hers. Her parting words didn't make him feel any better about the arrangement either. She didn't go into detail about how she would defeat him, but he knew he wasn't going to enjoy it. On the other hand, he was probably going to get slammed even harder if he wasn't going to show up. Damned if he went, damned if he didn't. Did he trigger some kind of death flag or something-

"You're here early!" Ayumi cheered from behind. Jolted out of his fatalist thoughts, Keima whipped around to face the runner. She shot him a playful grin; he shot her an annoyed glare. "So… did you not bring lunch again? 'Cause I got a pork bun with your name on it!"

"I'm good, Ayumi. Thanks anyway."

"Eh? You don't want to eat with us?" Ayumi's grin contorted into a pout. Still, even if Keima wanted to eat with Ayumi and co. - for the record, he didn't - he couldn't: all thanks to a certain pink-haired demon.

For a short second, he thought of explaining his situation to the short-haired girl, but decided against it. What would he tell her? "Oh, I met an idol the other day, and now she wants to fry my pants off." No one would believe him, especially since he was seen as a delusional nerd with zero credibility. Shiori being there wouldn't help either. People either didn't know her or thought she was a library recluse with a bit of a connection to the Student Council: way more credible than Keima, but no one would believe her. Even if Ayumi were to throw all logic away and believe him, it would ruin her reputation. It was in his best interests _not_ to trash it any more than he already has.

Taking all that into account, it was no surprise why he told his stomach to stop grumbling for a bit and lied, saying, "I'm not hungry. For real, this time."

Ayumi thought differently. She thought that there wasn't any ill will from Keima towards Chihiro, but if there was none, then why was he avoiding Ayumi and her friends all of a sudden? The runner knew for a fact that he had no homework to cram or people to meet, so what's with the sneaky-beaky act? _'Well, Keima may be top of the class, but I'll be damned if I can't come up with my own clever schemes too.'_

"Alright," Ayumi relented. "Just don't forget we have after-class cleanup duty later!"

* * *

Climbing the south building's staircase all the way to the top, Keima didn't know what to expect. Was he going to get blindsided the moment he stepped onto the rooftop, or was Kanon going to at least give him time to plead his case? Oh, yanderes were such a scary archetype.

Punching the code in, Keima swung open the door, only to see something jaw dropping. That pink witch somehow snuck a whole stage onto the rooftop, complete with sound equipment and everything. There was even a studio equalizer in the corner, though Keima didn't know how she'd do mic tests without alerting the whole school. In fact, the God of Conquests would have been impressed had he not been quaking in his boots.

Once Keima sat down at the bench he used to love, Kanon popped out from backstage, dressed in a winter coat of all things. Giving Keima a faint smile, Kanon said, "I'm sorry for calling you out all the way here. I'll make sure to end this quickly."

' _How polite for someone who threatens others,'_ thought Keima, holding the questionable CD case in his grasp.

"Anyway, please keep this a secret. My manager would kill me if she were to find out about this." Suddenly, the bespectacled girl removed her glasses and coat and cast them aside, revealing the costume underneath. He had to give her credit though; it wasn't pink. In fact, it was kinda cute, albeit revealing. A white cardigan, a yellow crop top, and a miniskirt didn't serve to protect her from the elements, though Keima doubted that was the point.

"You sure are lucky, Keima," the idol commented, bringing the mic up to her lips. "I haven't even released this song yet. I hope you enjoy!"

' _I hope so too. Dying of boredom doesn't sound like fun,'_ the gamer snarked, though once the music kicked in and Kanon started dropping some vocal runs, he found himself pleasantly surprised. The song's melody was upbeat, the dancing wasn't bad, and the idol's vocals were buttery smooth. Heck, Keima thought it would make for some nice background music while gaming.

He looked away from the mini concert in front of him towards the high school building. Thinking about it, this might cause problems for the idol. He was sure people would flock towards someone who sounded like Kanon singing a song they've never heard before.

 _Oh well, it wasn't Keima's problem. He wasn't his idol's keeper._

"So," huffed Kanon, smiling despite the clear exhaustion, "did my song reach you?" As she descended from the stage and walked towards him, he had to give credit where credit was due. It seemed like she really poured her heart into that performance. Still, it was a bit alarming that she went through all this effort just to woo one unbeliever. He could see the Bad End she'd wind up hitting if she continued down this destructive path.

 _Oh well, it wasn't Keima's problem._

"It was okay," Keima coldly remarked, "but you aren't as good as Rina Ogata- ngk!"

A white blur shot for his neck. He only saw the white glove balling his collar for a split second before he was harshly yanked towards the idol. In the blink of an eye, he was face to face with the idol, fury in her eyes. Her voice quivering from frustration, the idol said, "Rina who? I know everyone in the industry, and I've never heard of this 'Ogata' person. Who is she?"

While it would have been easy to just see her surface level anger and brush her off because of it, Keima couldn't help but see that she was cracking. If he didn't want to have her break down in front of him, he'd have to something.

 _Oh well…_

Even though he wasn't in the most comfortable position, Keima was able to pull out his phone, fire up a web browser, and look up a video of _White Album_ , the visual novel that Rina Ogata came from. Bringing the phone into Kanon's view, Keima said, "Here's a video of her performing."

Watching the video on screen, Kanon's face contorted from anger to exasperation. She let go of Keima's collar, the sudden lack of force near his cravat forcing the boy to retake his seat on the bench. Keima would have let out a sigh of relief if Kanon didn't decide to sit shoulder to shoulder to him. Shaking her head out of exasperation, Kanon commented, "That's a video game, silly~"

"Yes. That still makes her my favorite idol." Kanon held out her hand: an obvious gesture for his phone. Well, unless he wanted to get shocked, cried at, or both, Keima had to give it to her. Handing her his phone, Keima watched as the idol flipped through it, looking at more _White Album_ footage.

"Mou, why am I less liked than a videogame character?"

"It's not your fault," Keima comforted. "No idol of the Real can compare to Rina's depth of character."

"Okey dokey." Suddenly, the gamer found Kanon's face close enough to his own that he could feel her breath on his face. "But you liked my song, right?"

He didn't like close proximity with others, so he barely coughed out, "I-it's good. Still not as good as-"

Keima jumped back a bit as Kanon shot up from the bench, a dazzling smile on her face. "I'm so glad you like it! Ah, what a relief. I couldn't work for a while."

 _'Funny, my PFP won't work for a while too,'_ Keima said internally out of spite. It was a shame too. With how innocent, authentic, and charismatic she was, Keima might have grown to tolerate her. If only she didn't completely trash his PFP.

"Erm… can we exchange emails?" Kanon asked, putting a finger to her lips inquisitively. She put the other hand behind her back and leaned forward in an effort to be cute. Nice try, Real girl. Wasn't gonna work on him, especially since she was the gadget breaking witch.

"...Why?" If Kanon noticed his testiness, she didn't react to it. In fact, her formerly pursed lips only twisted into a shy smile.

"I don't have friends from 2-B. Or from anywhere in Mai-High, for that matter. In fact, you're the first person I talked to from this school."

Without even waiting for a reply, Kanon tossed Keima his phone. Startled, the nerd was barely able to catch it. He'd be damned if he were to let Kanon trash another one of his electronics. Turning on the screen, he found himself on his contacts screen. It wasn't a very long contacts screen, so it wasn't hard for him to find a newly registered email address. Keima winced. _'Oh what kind of flag did you raise now, Real?'_

With Keima's email memorized, Kanon cheerfully said, "I look forward to working with you!"

* * *

"... I wasn't supposed to be working with you," Keima "cheerfully" said. Keima was getting a little frustrated with Reality. How many curveballs was it going to throw Keima's way before it was satisfied? First the Kanon fiasco, now this?

"Ayumi asked me to swap cleaning duties with her since the meets were coming up, and she wanted to double down on her training," Chihiro explained, picking up a broom and sweeping away. "Don't make it sound like I wanted to be here."

' _Did I just witness the birth of a resourceful general?'_ He could just picture the runner smirking at the success of her plan. Resigning himself to his fate, Keima walked up to the classroom window and started arranging the desks..

"I don't know why she went out of her way to do this," Chihiro whined. "It's not like we were at each other's throats the other day."

"Mhm. I just don't like you."

"And I don't like you."

"I refuse to play along with this obvious setup," said Keima, just as his pocked buzzed. Letting go of a chair, he checked his messages. He sighed. It was Kanon again, for the fifth time that day. Why!? It had barely even been five hours since they last met! The messages were almost always simple stuff: barely disturbing.

Right now, she had texted him about how they were stuck in traffic and that she might miss her interview with the press. Hmph, she was lucky he had nothing better to do. His fingers flew across the keyboard, hastily telling her to stop worrying since the situation was out of her hands and to let her manager handle any schedule conflicts. He hoped it would keep the idol away for now.

"Hey, Otamega, what did you do to Ayumi?"

Pocketing his phone, Keima replied, "What do you mean?"

"She hated your guts less than a week ago. Now, she likes you so much that she wants to add you to our group. How?"

"I'm surprised you care."

Indignant, the girl huffed, "Of course. Ayumi's my friend- duck Otamega!"

Keima's eyes bulged as a 50 kilograms of girl tackled him to the ground. He had half a mind to lecture him, only to see Chihiro peek her head above the windowsill. Curiosity overcoming his newfound chest pain, Keima joined her. He saw two conventionally attractive guys talking about whatever. They were side characters, basically. Not seeing the point to all the secrecy, Keima craned his head around to look at the girl beside him. He saw hearts in her eyes; she was absolutely enamoured by one of them.

"Yuuta sure is cool," Chihiro swooned. Then, he pulled a complete 180 and scoffed at Keima. "Huge difference from you."

"Does it look like I care?" Keima said, looking away.

"Auah, I wonder if I could get closer to him somehow," the girl mused, completely ignoring Keima's remark as she put her arms behind her back. "Hm, it's almost his birthday; maybe I can capitalize on that. I've been looking for good gifts in magazines, but-"

"You think the secret to love is found in a 900 yen magazine?"

"Excuse me? Is the secret to love found in a 5000 yen video game?"

"Okay, look," Keima said, facing her again. She did the same. "What do you really know about this Yuuta guy? His likes? His personality? Hair color. Extra curricular activities?"

"H-how would I know all that?" Chihiro argued, crossing her arms. "I only started liking him like two days ago-"

"How laughable. Capturing a partner without knowing his parameters is like dressing up for snow by putting on a two piece swimsuit," Keima mocked. "I never neglect finding the route with these parameter; that's why I always get the good endings."

"That's just game talk."

"And what if it is?" Keima was just getting riled up now. He slowly leaned in towards Chihiro. "Have you ever confessed to someone successfully?"

"I-I don't see why that matters!" Chihiro stood up in order to get away from the nerd.

He stood up too. "Hah, to group me together with people who fail both in games and in Reality is ridiculous."

"That's big talk for someone who has never been in love before! Have _you_ ," Keima grunted a bit as he felt a finger prod his chest, "ever had a date or even kissed someone in real life before?"

Keima thought back to that day. He was in the library, pressed up against her, his lip gently caressing hers. He remembered how soft, how warm she was, the way she melted into his arms.

"I-I just-" Keima's cheeks were flared up, and he could barely choke out his words. "-just got caught up in the moment, e-even though I shouldn't have."

Chihiro's jaw dropped. "Wait, what!? You, Otamega? You kissed someone!?"

Her hands darted for his collar, gripping it tightly. She said, "I-I don't believe you. Prove it to me. Show me you can get someone to kiss you."

"W-what?" He tried to back up, but Chihiro had an iron grip.

"Y'know what, since I know you like games so much, let's make _this_ a game. First one to get a date wins."

* * *

 **Merry Christmas! An early update is my present to you (and an AN that's a tad too long).**

 **Kinda broke down near the end; it's pretty obvious too. Kusunoki's section had way more detail than Chihiro's, though it could just be the nature of the scene.**

 **Also, there _was_ a reason why I had Keima kiss Shiori, and you can see why now. First, she was the one who told Kanon that she and Keima were classmates, and her kiss would lead to this little scene with Chihiro. I wonder what other details are gonna have their consequences later on.**

 **Ey, this is breaking the record again: 4,200+ words. I fear that these chapters may get longer as the connections become more and more complicated, so it might take more time to churn out these chapters.**

 **By the way, I checked the poll results. It's a tie. I'll take the easy way out and just not do it. I've got some ideas brewing in my head about Elsie and Haqua, but they aren't _that_ fleshed out yet. Oh well, maybe if I think up anything concrete.**

 **Now, there might be people saying "Hey, you took that Chihiro story line from that other guy's story." I technically did if before that person in a story written by my old account. If this actually becomes a clamant issue, I'll drop the story name and username here. Until then, I'd rather not. Besides, I think the betting is a common enough story hook.**

 **Oh, there's also a new poll on my profile. Just because I'm curious. There are some girls *cough* M-san *cough* who can't be in any chapters in the nearby future because of their unique arcs - I'm excited to write 'em, mind you - so the poll won't influence me too much. Still, it's nice to know who my audience likes.**

 **As always, if there are any errors in logic or grammar, please point 'em out. I'll give it another lookover and update it. See ya next time.**


	8. Ribbon

_Connection Eight: Ribbon_

* * *

"I didn't know you were such a schemer."

Keima found him walking out the school gates next to Ayumi yet again. Reality was once more trying to paint the runner as a heroine, which would have been laughable had it not been so consistent. He had already lost count of the amount of times he walked home with her, and despite the frequency, the potency of the setting never died down. Even though she had sweated out from a long day of gym, she still looked ethereal under the moonlight. In fact, her allure only got more enticing as time went on. Her previously guarded posture she had as she walked at least two meters apart from him, as the days passed, turned into a casual stride almost joined to him at the shoulder.

"Heh, maybe it's all thanks to your tutoring," Ayumi teased, letting out a girly giggle.

Dangerous. It was coming close to a line a heroine would say. Keima looked away, choosing to gaze upon the nearby convenience store. He saw a customer chat up a blonde pig-tailed cashier as he checked out his items. Ah, that took Keima back to that one game…

...Game. He missed gaming. He used to be able to play for hours on end in school. Oh well, he knew which route Kusunoki was on. The crucial moment was coming. He had to open her up, have her be more open to "weak" things. He just had to give her a little push, maybe expose her to cute clothes, cute songs-

Keima physically winced. His perception on songs was forever ruined by a little pink runt. Let it be known that Kanon Nakagawa was incessant. She never stopped texting him. She texted him after he finished cleaning up. She texted him as he put on his outdoor shoes. She even texted him was he was taking care of nature's call in the bathroom earlier. Why was there no end to it!?

"You okay, Keima?" Ayumi asked, waving a hand in front of the grimacing boy. "You look like you swallowed a pill."

"I'm fine," the boy replied, still surprised by the amount of empathy she showed to her… "friend." He thought back to his time cleaning the classroom with Chihiro. She asked him why Ayumi would suddenly come around to liking the Otamegane, and if he was to be honest with himself, the Capturing God wasn't exactly sure why he had a follower too. Not like knowing the whole truth about the runner would change anything; Keima still had to go through that dumb bet he agreed to. Logically, he should just lose on purpose since the bet was such a waste of time, but something drove the God of Conquests to crush the puny little girl. It'd be easy enough to ask Shiori out on a date and kiss her, yet Keima felt that it wasn't enough to hammer the final nail into Chihiro's coffin-

"Oi," interjected Ayumi, increasing the rate at which she waved her hand, "you're putting on that sadist face again."

"Ngh." The gamer could only wince as the runner reached out for the corners of his mouth and stretched them, forming an uncanny smile.

"There there," Ayumi said, patting his cheek as she withdrew her hands. "You look better when you're smiling."

He was going to say that he only smiled while playing games when his phone buzzed yet again. Keima had to hold back a groan as he pulled out his phone yet again. Of course, it was Kanon, back at it again with the endless stream of worrying, even as Keima navigated to her emails. It was five repeated strings of "go to the bookstore in 10 mins - k".

He hammered in a reply: "no".

In less than three frames - 50 milliseconds - he got a worrying reply: "if you don't show up you'll find my reaction to be quite… _shocking._ "

He gulped. Yanderes.

"I just got a text from my mom," Keima told Ayumi, pocketing his phone. "I'm gonna head for the shopping district."

Surprisingly, Ayumi popped off, asking, "Oh, do you mind doing me a favor?"

Reaching into her bag, she pulled out her signature pink ribbon, the one she used whenever she got serious. Well, allegedly. Keima never saw her as she trained, so all he had was second hand information. Still, if the rumors were true, she'd be a force to be reckoned with when she had her hair tied up with that ribbon… if it wasn't in horrible condition. The length of ribbon was cut into shreds, with only thin strings holding the partitions together.

"I-I fell into a bush and, erm, this is what happened," the runner said, a slight tinge visible on her cheeks. Her cute demeanor wouldn't fool Keima, however. The cuts were too clean and the lines delivered were too forced. Ayumi was lying through her teeth if she claimed that the cut up ribbon was the result of an accident.

"So you want me to get you a new one?" While he knew that someone cut up Ayumi's ribbon, Keima still lacked information. He needed to know who caused it, if it was a problem, and if it was a problem that Keima wanted to get himself into.

He could only hope that it wasn't the latter.

"Ah, thanks!"

* * *

It wasn't a secret that Shiori liked books. They were comforting, unassuming, and interesting. Within the folds of their pages were countless tales that whisked the high schooler away from having to talk to others. Even though she was over having to use her beloved books as a crutch in order to avoid communicating with people, she was still an introvert; exercising her people skills was still exhausting for her. These musty tomes reinvigorated her.

That's why she loved loitering around in bookstores, especially the one she was in right now. What Shiori liked most about it wasn't its vast selection - she could go to school for that. She wasn't too much of a fan of their prices either, since she could go to a second-hand bookstore for bargains. What Shiori liked about it was that it also doubled as a cafe. Past the cashiers was a cafe and a lounge, so people that purchased books could instantly find a place to relax and read it. Reading a new book while sipping on delectable drinks was definitely Shiori's favorite pastime.

Passing through the aisles, Shiori looked high and low for a book she could add to her quickly growing collection back at home. Going by her gut, she stood on her tippy toes and reached out for a book that was on the tallest shelf away from her five-foot-two frame. In the back of her mind, she thought of asking an employee for help, but eventually decided against it. She could to it. After struggling for a bit, she finally managed to eek out an extra centimeter and grabbed hold of the corner of the book she was interested in.

Grinning warmly at her success, she brought the book down to her level and examined the cover. Her face instantly flushed as she hoped that no one could see the steam rising from her head. Her grip on the tome was gingerly, her thumb running across the bare chest of the man on the cover. Oh, why did she have to wander into the romance section? Quickly, her eyes darting around in case anyone she knew was looking, Shiori tossed the book back up and ran out of the section.

Bracing herself against one of the bookshelves, Shiori put her hands on her chest. It heaved up and down as it struggled to bring her body to normal. She didn't know what became of her. While Shiori was capable of reading any book, her preferences definitely lied in science fiction or wartime novels; she never had the urge to pick up a romantic book before. Romance…

Shiori's breathing only grew heavier as her cheeks became deeper shades of red. Maybe a romance book would help her with… _him_. Oh, she was swooning just thinking of Keima Katsuragi. She shook her head, desperately trying to shake those thoughts away and failing. She wanted him so badly…

...Badly enough to buy a book.

She looked left. There were a few people looking around, though they seemed to be too occupied with their potential purchases to notice her. Okay, good. She craned her head over to the right. No one in sight. Perfect.

Knowing that no one was near, Shiori darted back into the romance section. Her eyes quickly scanned the book covers, knowing that it was only a matter of time till someone would check out the section too. A few titles caught her attention, though they were all on the top shelf and she didn't want to do any more time consuming tippy toe maneuvers. Luckily for her, at the end of the section, she saw a book called "How to Make Him Fall for You in a Fortnight." She slid it out of its spot and checked it out. Emblazoned on the cover was a red haired knight riding a pegasus as she looked towards the sky with a smile on her face. It seemed demure enough, the price was decent, and it seemed like it had actual advice.

Satisfied, Shiori left and walked towards the cashier, where her satisfied grin dropped off the face of the earth. Lounging around at the cafe was a lithe boy with sharp eyes and brown hair - Keima - and sitting next to him was a person heavily clothed in winter attire. Shiori could see a lock of pink peek out of that beret, though, and Shiori knew for a fact that the only pink haired person Keima knew was Kanon. What was the boy doing with the idol?

It seemed as if her competition for the boy doubled overnight.

Shiori internally cried, _'I-I thought Kanon hated his guts! Then why do they look like newlyweds on their honeymoon?'_

Keima internally cried, _'I thought this was going to be over after the initial encounter. Then why is this one flag looking like a fifty gigabyte game?'_

Oblivious to Keima's internal plight, Kanon smiled warmly at the bespectacled boy, sipping her coffee a bit more. She was so glad that Keima could come to her aid even on such short notice. It made her feel secure, especially when he gave her such calming advice at a rate almost as fast as the rate at which her problems cropped up. Putting the cup down, Kanon asked, "So my hair is giving me anxiety. It's grown a little too long for my taste. I'm wondering if I should get it styled in a different manner, or if it'll be fine the way it is, or-"

"Your hair is fine. If it wasn't, your manager and hair stylist would handle it," Keima waved off her worries, just as she was hoping he would. Just as he always would. "You only have to focus on your ability to sing and dance. Allow the others to do their jobs."

"Ah, that makes sense. Look at me; I'm such a worrywart," Kanon laughed, not noticing Keima's growing vexation. "Thanks to you, I can finally get back to work!"

"Kanon."

Finally hearing the coldness in Keima's words, Kanon dropped her smile and asked, "Oh, Keima, is there a problem?"

Kanon could feel the temperature in the room drop. She tried to defuse the situation by retreating to her coffee, though the warm brew she sipped earlier suddenly felt scalding. Welp, she wasn't gonna hide behind her cup. She put it down only to see the boy look her straight in the eye with that signature sharp gaze of his. While Kanon normally felt comfortable in his presence, she never felt good when his eyes pierced her.

"About these _consultations_ … are they going to be happening frequently?"

"W-well, I want them to continue," Kanon answered, leaning in towards Keima and looking at him with eyes wide. "Keima, I want you to understand that you are the only one I feel I can trust. I don't ask my parents, or Okada, or anyone else: only you. I need you, Keima. A-are you saying that this has to stop?"

Keima wanted to say yes. She was denizen of the Real, after all; why should he care about what she needs? Still, looking at her doe eyes and her desperate plea for advice, Keima couldn't bear himself to crush her, especially since he saw what her Ending would be like if he didn't step in...

* * *

Keima let out a yawn as he brought his hand up to wipe the crust out of his eye. Keima was never really a fan of going to school early. After all, it was just a place to get bothered by his classmates and get smacked by Ms. Nikaidou - not much to be excited for. Still, the ever increasing list of requirements he needed to fulfill in order to get his PFP-centered lifestyle back forced him to get up earlier and earlier.

 _'One week, Keima,'_ the Capturing God cooed to himself like a mantra as he pulled out the present in his bag. _'Just one more week, then you can finally get back to the thing you love.'_

Enclosed in this rather mundane box was a simple red ribbon that Keima bought at the shopping district after his little "date" with Kanon. As he ran his fingers over the grain of the box, he couldn't help but wonder what caused the destruction of her previous ribbon. If the nerd had to take a shot in the dark, he'd have to say that she was being bullied for being associated with him, though Keima had to admit that it wasn't very likely. Despite her interactions with him, Ayumi still remained rather popular. So what really happened?

Keima's musings brought him to the school's track oval right in front of the sports center. He didn't really frequent the place much. While there were a few benches for students to sit on, the sunlight was harsh and the athletes were noisy. Long story short: not good for his gaming, though Keima could see how the more sports-oriented students would enjoy the facilities more than him. The track looked clean, the grass was trimmed, and the hurdles looked sturdy.

Speaking of hurdles, Keima could see the girl he was looking for vault over them. Watching her rapidly cover ground with her lengthy stride, the boy realized that he had never seen her in motion. He had heard that she was Mai-High's "Unguided Missile," and he now knew the reason why. He was sure that she'd barrel straight through those hurdles if she wouldn't get disqualified for doing so.

Well, time to give Ayumi her gift-

Keima stopped in his tracks when Ayumi was approached by three lanky students in track-and-field uniforms - clubmates, Keima assumed. From where he was, he couldn't see their expressions, but he could see Ayumi's, and it didn't look very warm. Slowing down to a jog, Ayumi's face had a smile that looked thin and screamed "uncomfortable." As the proximity between her and her fellow track-and-field members grew shorter, Keima could see her facial features become faker, barely containing how tense she was.

The Capturing God strained his ears, by the narrowest of margins able to hear Ayumi awkwardly chuckle, "A-ah, hello, Senpais~"

"Ayumi, dear," the upperclassman in the center - probably the leader of the upperclassman clique surrounding Ayumi - said, "I just wanna talk about something."

"Er, go ahead. I'm all ears."

"We've been hearing stories that you've been going out with that Otamegane." Keima saw the leader break off from her coterie and walk over to Ayumi, swinging her arm over the 2-B student's shoulder in a faux buddy way.

The boy could see Ayumi's cheeks redden into a deep blush. "I-I'm not going out with him! We're just-"

"Takahara," the upperclassman said, smirking as she pulled Ayumi closer to her, "we don't really care who you choose to go out with, but you gotta keep your eyes on the prize. The meet is coming up, and you could become one of the lucky few representing the school. Underperforming because you're spending all your time making out with a nerd-"

"S-Senpai, that's not-"

"-would be very disappointing, especially to your beloved senpais that just want a trophy for their last year in high school. Is that too much to ask, Ayumi?"

"...No, Senpai."

Satisfied, the upperclassman released Ayumi, patting her shoulder. "That's what I wanted to hear. Now, run another lap!"

Nodding, Ayumi broke out into a full sprint, zooming past the group of seniors and outrunning everyone else on the track oval. Even though Keima's knowledge was limited, he knew that the speed that Ayumi was running at would definitely draw her coach's attention, and since the team was apparently looking for members to compete at the meet, he was sure that Ayumi would land the spot. However, the upperclassmen Ayumi talked to didn't seem to like that fact very much.

Keima could see the route. He could see the ending.

He just wasn't sure if he should be a part of it.

* * *

Miyako felt bad for Ayumi. She was cute, kind, and talented: things people tended to envy. The long haired Terada knew that her friend was getting harassed by the seniors because they wanted Ayumi's spot on the competing team for the upcoming meet. She just didn't know what to do to help her friend.

The young Terada was sure that Ayumi didn't want the long haired girl to risk her standing with the upperclassmen just for Ayumi's sake, but maybe it would be better for Miyako to ignore that and step in to help. Would a teacher help with the bullying, or would it just exacerbate the situation? Miyako had no idea. She brought it up with Chihiro, and she didn't know what to do either.

Hm… maybe Katsuragi had something. Miyako asked, "Ayumi, where's Katsuragi?"

"He told me he had something to do," Ayumi said, scarfing down her bento. "He didn't tell me what, though."

' _Something to do? Don't tell me Otamega actually has something planned for the bet,'_ Chihiro groaned, balling up the meat bun wrapper. As she lined up her shot, the normal girl thought about that impulsive game she set up with the nerd. _'I was so confident about winning the bet too. I mean, I have zero experience, but Otamega is a reclusive loser. Who would want to go out with him?'_

She took the shot. Chihiro watched as it elegantly coursed through the air only to hit the rim of the trash can with a dull thump. Grumbling to herself, Chihiro stood up to throw it away. _'Well, if he - the guy who does nothing but play games - is out and about doing things, then it_ has _to be for the bet. I mean, what else is he doing: taking care of cats or something?'_

Chihiro bent down and picked up the wrapper, staring at it. _'Very funny, Chihiro. Argh, how does he have a plan already? I was expecting him to just give up and play with that gaming console of his while I formulated a plan. Now he has something, and I have nothing.'_

' _...I do have friends, though,'_ the short haired girl thought, nonchalantly throwing the wax paper into the bin. It fell in. Two points for Chihiro. Woohoo. _'Maybe they can help. Oh, telling them about the bet I made with Otamega will be so embarrassing.'_

' _It would be more embarrassing to lose to a guy like him, though.'_

"Hey, guys," Chihiro brought up. "I need your help."

* * *

Real girls were weird.

That was something the Capturing God knew as a fact. Girls in games were easy to understand. For the most part, they were based off of typical anime tropes: the childhood friend, the tsundere, the rich ojou-sama, etc. That made it easy to figure out what was on their mind, what they wanted to do, and what they were about to do. This beautiful simplicity is why Keima was so good at finding routes and seeing the ending.

Real girls didn't play by the rules. The ones that weren't background characters were insanely complex, false flags and hidden events littered their routes. How was someone supposed to calculate for love points if there were significant events that the player couldn't see? Did the creator of this shitty game forget the concept of a learning curve?

Speaking of questions Keima didn't exactly have the answer for, why did Ayumi ask him to go to the rooftop during recess? Why did she ask him to tie her hair up with the new ribbon? Why did she lean in towards him as he did so, making the proximity between them closer and closer? Why could he feel her breath on his neck, her heart thump against her chest?

Argh, why was she so confusing? He didn't raise flags for any of those events! Why was she blatantly coming into physical contact with him? Things were simpler when she thought of him as a creep.

Shaking those frustrating thoughts away, Keima swung open the Women's Martial Arts club door. He was greeted by a rather… interesting sight. Kusunoki, the graceful yet stoic martial artist heir to the Kasuga dojo, was cuddling with the cat. Chuckling to herself, the warm smile on her face only grew as she ran her digits over the animal's soft fur.

"...Am I interrupting something, Kasuga?" Keima asked, struggling to keep a straight face. Just when he thought Reality was going to utterly destroy any semblance of logic it once had, it was finally giving Keima a route! No plot twists or hidden quirks; just an honest character arc. Keima could see the ending.

Surprised, Kusunoki shot into the air as the cat leaped out of her grasp. "A-ah, I was only taking care of the cat. I wasn't liking my time cradling the cat one bit!"

"It's okay to enjoy taking care of the cat," Keima assured, walking towards the martial artist while flashing her what was supposed to be a disarming smile.

All Kusunoki saw was a smug shit-eating grin.

"Wipe that smirk off your face, Katsuragi," Kusunoki demanded, throwing a gentle punch Keima's way. He grunted as it grazed his cheek, the force behind her blow launching the poor gamer across the room.

"Consider it wiped off," the nerd coughed out, pulling himself up. Just when things were going smoothly too…

"I-I admit, I enjoy the feline's presence more than I should. Moving on to more pertinent matters," the athlete continued, apathetic towards the nerd who was trying to catch his breath, "you said previously that I could find strength in such cute things. While I do find a guilty pleasure in indulging in such acts, I fail to see the strength in it."

Wow, a flag that Keima could actually use. What should he do with it, though? While he had other plans, like showing how conventionally cute Ayumi can sprint insane distances, he thought back to that afternoon with Chihiro. He remembered that smirk on her face, like the bet he had just agreed to was a shoe-in for her. He'd make her eat those words and get his PFP back too.

"Kusunoki, more strength can only found from things that are more cute," Keima stated. "So we're going to do the cutest thing I can think of. Go on a date with me."

* * *

 **Happy New Years! I hope 2017's a better year. Sure, we got Overwatch and the Nintendo Switch announcement, but holy crap, this year was bad, at least for me. Had the worst semester of my college life, many prominent figures passed away, US presidential elections were insanely toxic: not very good.**

 **But you guys don't wanna listen to that, so let's just talk about the story.**

 **Getting a lot of feedback about the amount of connections that are forming. I suppose I can add more filler chapters like this one, maybe have the filler alternate with the introduction chapters. Still, I'm definitely going to introduce more interweaved arcs. Heh, maybe I should change the name of the story from Connections to Complicated.**

 **For people who voted for Chihiro on the poll, you might wanna vote again. Also, you guys are gonna be _so_ disappointed. M-san and A-san are topping it right now and their arcs are barely outlined. **

**Leave any errors you find in grammar, spelling, logic, etc. in a review, and I'll deal with them (eventually).**


	9. Setup

_Connection Nine: Setup_

* * *

"Why did you two have to do this?"

Ayumi didn't know what to think about Chihiro and Keima aside from this: they're both idiots. If only Ayumi knew that things would come at a head in such a way, then maybe she wouldn't have forced them to kiss and make up in the 2-B classroom that day.

Welp, it was too late now; they were going to go through with this stupid bet, and if Chihiro was right, Keima was actually trying to win it. One side of Ayumi felt somewhat glad that the bet was really making Keima go out there, do new things, and meet new people - much better than playing his games all day. Yes, she was glad, yet there was an ominous feeling she had deep in the pit of her stomach at the thought of Keima holding another girl's hand, smiling at another girl's antics, tying another girl's hair up, kissing another girl's lips-

Bad thoughts, Ayumi. Bad thoughts!

In an effort to distract herself from the gut-wrenching ideas, Ayumi took a sip of her coffee and grimaced. She didn't really like coffee much. Because of her training and diet, she could only drink jet black brew since it had almost zero calories. The tradeoff was that it tasted like muddy water. She had no choice though; what else would she buy at a coffee shop and not stand out.

"Hey, it's not like I knew he was going to take the bet seriously," Chihiro argued, crossing her arms. "Besides, I told him that you two are off limits, so you should be fine."

"That's not the point-"

"Girls, I only have an hour left till my cram school," Miyako interjected. "If we want any progress to get made, then we have to get started now."

Ayumi relented, saying, "Well, can't do anything about the bet now. What do you have in mind, Chihiro?"

"Hmm," Chihiro hummed, bringing her hand to her chin, "I'd like to start by getting closer to Yuuta, and I'll need a wingman for that."

"What does a 'wingman' have to do?" asked Ayumi.

"Well according to this-" Chihiro reached into her bag, pulling out a teen's magazine, "-I'll need to get him to notice me. Basically, a wingman will help set up a situation where I get to interact with Yuuta."

"I'll do it," Miyako said. Ayumi could see a glint in her eye. Was this the birth of a resourceful general?

"And what will you have me do?" the short haired runner asked.

"I want you to be my spy," Chihiro said. "You're already close to Otamega, so he wouldn't suspect that you're gathering intel for me. Also, while I don't really think Otamega's capable of getting a date, in the unlikely case that he is, I need you to sabotage it."

Internally, the runner winced. She had a bad feeling that this bet was only going to make the rift between Chihiro and Keima bigger. No matter who won, Ayumi would lose. She also knew, deep in her heart, that Keima was definitely able to land a date. If he was able to influence people to the extent that he influenced Shiori, then for sure, he'd be able to convince someone to go out with him. She wasn't looking forward to the confrontation when that happened.

Ayumi took a sip of her brew.

"I-I'll do it."

She felt a bitter taste in her mouth, and it wasn't from the coffee.

* * *

"I still don't know how you managed to persuade me yesterday into pursuing this 'line of attack', Katsuragi," Kusunoki grumbled, making sure her pleasure was unknown to the person in her company. "Why should I even consider finding the strength in cute things anyway?"

The martial artist stared daggers his way as she tugged on her brown skirt, trying futilely to bring the hem below her knees. She despised her outfit. She could feel the breeze caress her legs, the sun beat down on her skin. The fabric of her pink blouse was soft and thin; unlike her gi, the blouse would rip in half if she were to get into a serious fight. She felt exposed, defenseless - _weak_.

And yet, she felt… weird. She'd have to be held at gunpoint to even consider admitting to Keima that the outfit he picked out for her was, well, appealing to the eye - to her, at least. She was sure that others wouldn't be able to stand the sight of her. She didn't have to wrap her chest with gauze, so the pressure she normally felt was relieved, allowing her to relax slightly.

She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

That aside, she was feeling _something_ while wearing this unnatural outfit. She felt the same foreign warmth course through her when she was cuddling with that cat. She also felt it while looking at-

Keima replied, "It's called a 'date', Kusunoki, and there are limits to physical strength, limits that I think you are close to reaching. Once you hit those limits, you will have to find strength in other things - in other people."

"Tsk," the martial artist whined, letting go of the hem of her skirt out of frustration, "and _why_ did you have me put on this attire? The school uniform would be better suited for me; this skirt is unfit. It's embarrassing! I feel like everyone's eyes are all on me, laughing away to my detriment."

"They're looking at you because you're cute, Kusunoki," replied Keima, turning towards his attractive upperclassman while flashing her what was supposed to be a charismatic smile.

All Kusunoki saw was a smug shit-eating grin.

"Don't say random things with such reckless abandon!" said Kusunoki, throwing a controlled punch at the nerd. Wide-eyed, Keima couldn't do anything but throw up his arms in a desperate attempt at a defense. As he saw her hand dart towards him, the bespectacled boy expected to be thrown back a few kilometers from the force. Her fist connected with his crossed forearms. Surprisingly, Keima managed to keep himself standing, only skidding backwards a few meters.

Keima has seen Kusunoki practice. The pile of punctured boxing bags and Keima's firsthand experience are evidence that her strikes held some lethality to them. The one she threw at Keima, however, seemed to lack that deadly force. She was blushing too, looking away from him with her arms behind her back. Was she finally showing her ability to hold back, or was it something else?

Kusunoki was having an internal struggle. J-just what was that boy thinking? Throwing compliments her way and all that. However, his words rung true, and looking back on it, his smile was so warm and _real_. Once again, she felt exposed, tugging on the hem of her skirt in an effort to feel an ounce of protection. With just a smile and a statement, she was instantly disarmed. Her mental faculties had shut down, overheating.

That was scary for the martial artist, being robbed of a clear mind. You wouldn't be able to read the opponent's movements or plan out a line of attack if her thoughts were all muddled into goo.

Strangely enough, she also felt… _empowered_ , for some reason. As a martial artist, Kusunoki never paid much attention to her outer appearance. Because of that negligence, she felt inadequate in terms of looks. She stood at a tall and lanky 5'9" - towering even over the average Japanese man. Her muscles probably made her arms and legs look grotesque.

She also never really liked her hair or her chest: things that were apparently attractive features. They just got in the way; tournaments required her hair to be tied up, while her back would kill her if she didn't wrap up her torso. While she liked her body for its strength, she wasn't fond of how it looked, so hearing such genuine words from a… _cute_ guy strengthened her in a different way from what she was used to.

 _She wasn't sure if she liked the feeling yet..._

Noticing that the flushed girl grew silent, Keima offered, "So where would you like to go?"

 _...but if she wanted to find out..._

"A-ah," Kusunoki replied, happy that Keima hadn't noticed her mental monologue, "there's this store that I'd like to visit."

 _...then she'd have to take this "date" seriously._

"Lead the way, Kusunoki."

* * *

"Are you _sure_ that you can't tell me what you have in store, Miyako?"

Chihiro swished around the tea in her cup as Miyako peeked her head out the door, checking to see if Yuuta was nearby. The girl saw her reflection in the water; normal complexion, average hair, decent eyes - everything about her was simply on par and dim. She saw her mouth dip into a frown. Maybe, just maybe, if she were to get together with Yuuta, then she'd shine as brightly as he does.

"Of course! You should trust your friend, Chihiro. No pressure, by the way," the runner said, patting Chihiro on the back and applying more metaphorical pressure onto Chihiro's shoulders. Her hands were trembling; she could see ripples form on the tea's surface. Oh, Chihiro wasn't feeling it. Maybe she should back out while she could.

"I'm not so sure about this anymore, Miyak-"

"There he is! Go!" Miyako interjected, unceremoniously shoving the poor girl hurtling towards the boy. Chihiro felt her shoulder bump against Yuuta, and she could only watch helplessly as the liquid spilled out and plattered all over the handsome student's uniform, dying his cravat a nice shade of pee yellow.

"Oi, watch where you're going!"

"I am, like, so sorry!" Chihiro exclaimed. Oh boy oh boy oh boy, what was she going to do? She completely ruined his cravat! He definitely wasn't going to like her now.

"I-it's fine," Yuuta said, looking at the damage the normal girl caused. "I'm gonna have to get this dry cleaned, though."

Something sparked in Chihiro's head. She remembered what the long-haired runner told her during recess earlier: "Hey, I know this is kinda random, but our shop has a promo for the week; the first article of clothing someone has dry cleaned is free!" Now she knew why Miyako mentioned that. She could take Yuuta to Terada's Dry Cleaning, and since it's free, he'd probably take the offer. That would guarantee her at least half an hour of conversation with him! She'd never doubt Miyako ever again!

"Hey, I-I know a place that can dry clean your cravat for free." Pure silence. Chihiro could only hope against hope as Yuuta combed his fingers through his hair, considering her offer. After a few seconds that Chihiro could have sworn was a few centuries, Yuuta smiled.

"I guess I'll take you up on that. My name is Yuuta."

"C-Chihiro."

* * *

When Kusunoki said that she had a place in mind, Keima didn't know what to think. After all, the only place he truly frequented at the shopping district was the games store, and while he'd like to take her there and check out the six new galge out this week, it'd just be a bitter reminder that his PFP was busted. Still, he wasn't surprised to be standing in front of a sports outlet.

While he was wallowing in perfectly masked lethargy, Kusunoki's eyes glinted, apparently excited. She briskly walked into the store, making a beeline for the bin of hand wraps. The martial artist gushed, picking up a roll and wrapping up her knuckles with it. "Cloth hand wraps: interesting. I always buy athletic tape; I wonder what a reusable wrap would be like."

"Hurry, Keima! We should get you one!" Kusunoki said, waving her unwrapped hand and flashing Keima what was supposed to be a cheerful smile.

All Keima saw was a clenched fist and a deceptive smirk.

"W-well this date is for you, so I think we should be getting you things: not vice versa," Keima argued, trying his best to slither away from the unwanted flag. He could suddenly see the route change, and while it would still end up with Kusunoki being more open to others, he could also see her "convincing" him to join the Women's Martial Arts Club, and even though Keima was far from being a woman, the cunning martial artist would, without a doubt, find a way to get him in the club anyway.

"Nonsense." Keima felt a cold hand wrap around his wrist with an iron grip as he was pulled towards Kusunoki. "I'd like you to try it out. It's always good to practice good safety habits, like how people wear helmets when they bike to school."

' _I'm not gonna be getting into fistfights on my daily commute to Mai-High,'_ Keima internally groaned. He couldn't outwardly protest, though, since the whole point of the date - and the project - was to get Kusunoki to find strength in other people. He started with getting her comfortable with cute things, and he hoped he was seeing evidence that she was starting to become less uncomfortable in different social situations too.

Speaking of uncomfortable social situations, the boy's cheeks reddened once the taller girl gingerly took his hand into her own. His breath grew slightly heavier from the death of his personal space. Give it back, Kusunoki; give it back!

"Now," Kusunoki explained, slowly encasing his hand in the thick cloth, "you must remember to anchor your thumb. You don't want it to overextend away from your wrist."

"I-I see." Did she not notice how close she was to him? The close proximity was killing him! He could feel himself becoming ensnared, almost like how his hand was being enveloped in the suffocating fabric.

Finally, after an eternity, Kusunoki let go and took a step back, admiring her handiwork, oblivious to the blush on both of their cheeks. "Yes, this is rather good wrap, don't you think?"

"...Yes."

Kusunoki smiled warmly. "Great."

* * *

' _Welp, there goes my 200 yen,'_ Keima groaned, looking at his slowly shrinking wallet. While he was prepared to spend a significant amount of money on Kusunoki, it was a different feeling actually seeing the money fly out of his pocket. Oh well, it was less than a twentieth of a game; it wouldn't be too missed… right?

Keima looked longingly at the arcade as he and Kusunoki walked by it. He remembered spending a lot of time and a few tokens playing on the arcade machines. While the arcade in front of him probably didn't have any galge, he still had a blast killing time in it. Ah, the good old days before social interactions…

"Eh, you wanna go to the game center?" Kusunoki asked, noticing the boy's lingering gaze. "The machine with the hammer up front looks interesting."

Keima whipped around to see a whack-a-mole machine. It was tropical-themed, complete with palm trees and and lobsters. The highest score was displayed on a scoreboard above the gameplay area, and if Keima were to be honest with himself, the current high score wasn't that impressive: a measly 238 points.

Kusunoki walked over to the machine and read the posted instructions. Running her digits over the handle of the hammer, the warrior commented, "Oh, so the object of this game is to strike creatures that pop out of these holes. A test of dexterity and hand-eye coordination… Keima, don't you play those electronic entertainment systems?"

"Er… yes."

"Then I guess this is the bridge between our interests, huh," Kusunoki said, picking up the hammer in her hand as the machine clanked into life. Keima watched as she elegantly and swiftly fought off the lobsters. Not a single calorie was wasted as she swung from foe to foe, bopping them back into their holes with just the amount of force necessary. Kusunoki looked like she was enjoying herself too, if the focused look on her face wasn't enough of a tell.

 **NEW HIGH SCORE!**

"728 points? Not bad," Keima remarked. Kusunoki wiped her brow, putting down her hammer as she admired her handiwork.

"I guess martial arts prevails today, Keima!" the warrior giggled. _Giggled._ Keima was slightly surprised at the rate she was embracing her cute, outgoing side.

' _Still,'_ Keima thought as he walked up to the machine, his glasses flaring, ' _just because we're on a date doesn't mean I'll let her win for free.'_

Kusunoki was beside herself with glee. She was actually having _fun_. The burden of the Kasuga dojo on her shoulders was always stopping her from enjoying herself. After all, the head of a dojo must maintain an aura of intimidation - fun doesn't necessarily mesh well with that. While her martial prowess didn't suddenly increase from the simple exercise, she found that she felt more stable, more satisfied. It seemed that taking the date seriously was the right idea. Now, just how far should Kusunoki take it?

 **NEW HIGH SCORE!**

' _W-what!?'_ Kusunoki craned her head back towards the machine. She saw the scrawny nerd barely holding up the weighty hammer in his hand, with "999" in red font above his head.

"Well, that's gonna be the high score till they reset it tomorrow," Keima said, not even acknowledging his success. "Time to go, Kusu-"

"No way!" Keima winced. Maybe he took the God of Conquests thing a bit too far...

"I'll keep on playing until I beat you!"

* * *

 **Hello! Just a short filler chapter to ease next chapter's introduction in. Yep; it's very likely that S-san will be introduced next chapter. It'll either be that or another filler chapter - the Bet Arc is just too interesting!**

 **It's been a while since Kanon's introduction, and since no one seemed to notice, I'll bring it up; she's my favorite character. Heh, I even write these chapters while listening to her album _Birth_. So yeah, I hope I don't seem too biased towards her. **

**I don't remember the Albatross reference, especially if it was in Chapters 1-4. Year long hiatuses do that to ya.**

 **Btw, I'm super glad that this story is an AU, since any inconsistencies with canon can be forgiven. Gonna be honest; didn't research Shiori's fave books.**

 **Also, I'm ecstatic that more and more people are reviewing the story. Shout outs to Shawn Raven and xelos540 for consistency and giving me something to look forward to everytime I update. I hope you two and the other readers enjoy this rather uneventful chapter.**

 **Poll update: seeing a lot of love for T-san. You guys are gonna be in for a treat. I have something planned, so if you T-san fans like D-san, you won't be too disappointed.**

 **Not sure when the next update's coming. School's creeping up on me (Jan 18 bb), and I'm sure that'll destroy any hope of a steady upload sched. Still, I'll be working on it.**

 **Ja ne.**


	10. Enter Sumire Uemoto

_Connection 10: Enter Sumire Uemoto_

* * *

Seeing the young Shiori Shiomiya reading at the library wasn't an uncommon sight. She could always be spotted with some sort of book in hand. Sometimes, she had a book emblazoned with extravagant cover art subtly depicting the events of the story within its folds. Right now, she had a book that had nothing on the cover at all.

That was because Shiori removed that rather on-the-nose "How to Make Him Fall for You in a Fortnight" cover sleeve, leaving the barren blue hard cover unprotected. While Shiori was sure that her very small handful of close friends wouldn't judge her for reading a romance book – Shiori did read _everything_ she could get her hands on, after all – the librarian didn't want to blow her cover in case an out-of-the-blue Keima Katsuragi was to waltz in on her unexpectedly.

Shiori wet the tip of her finger and turned the page over, hoping to digest whatever advice the book wanted to give her. Her eyes darted to the big bold letters greeting her that said:

 **DAY 1: Make Him Breakfast!**

Well, the author certainly threw subtlety out the window. Heck, it didn't even allow Shiori to choose when she could give him her meal. Did it really have to be breakfast?

Pushing her snarky quip aside and reading on, the book went into intricate detail into all kinds of things required to "make him breakfast" as the book so eloquently put it. It mentioned why breakfast was the way to go; it was the most important meal of the day, and it would effectively show off how housebroken the girl was. The book detailed what kind of meals she should and shouldn't prepare, and how to suck up your shyness and just give the object of your affections your breakfast bento. In fact, the instructions sounded so good to Shiori's ears that she was actually thinking about how to convince her mother to teach her how making egg rolls went again when she faintly heard someone say "Katsuragi" outside the library's doors.

"'Katsuragi'?" mused Shiori. Maybe Shiori could ask them if they had seen Keima, and once Shiori encountered the nerd, she'd ask him if he wanted her to make him breakfast. It would have been the perfect plan… if only it didn't involve talking to strangers.

 _'Oh please, Keima; lend me your strength!'_ Shiori internally prayed as she swung open the thin doors. Shiori looked to where the sound of footsteps was coming from, only to see two girls the librarian could faintly remember off the top of her head. She recognized them from 2-B; Shiori would always see them in the background with her peripheral vision as she looked for her beloved Katsuragi. The long haired one always looked calm, while the short haired one usually had her head buried in magazines, if she wasn't talking to one of her friends. They didn't seem too intimidating to talk to, even for a recluse like her.

Time to approach them-

"Man, this bet is in the bag! I'm gonna work Otamega to the bone!"

"You really don't like Katsuragi, huh?"

…Wait, what?

Shiori's brows furrowed. Did Keima go off and do things with other girls again? First Kanon and now this girl. She hoped Keima knew how lucky he was that she was still pursuing him despite his wavering devotion to her. Shiori huffed, covering her face with her book in order to look less conspicuous, deciding to gather more info.

"Just a tad. Well, I never thought I'd say this, but I'm glad I met him. Thanks to this bet, I'm getting closer and closer to Yuuta!" the short haired girl cheered. So this girl made a bet with Keima, and she's apparently trying to hook up with a guy. Hmm…

 _'I wonder what they bet on,'_ Shiori sarcastically groaned in her head. Oh, she could see the plot arc from a mile away. The librarian could picture a girl arm in arm with Keima, strolling around in a theme park. Shiori shook her head of those images. She could only hope she was wrong, though the color of her quickly tightening knuckles gave away her real thoughts.

"You don't even know what to do with his number," Shiori heard the long-haired girl say.

"They're releasing that part of the article tomorrow! Besides, I've got plenty of time." Shiori could hear the cockiness dripping down the short-haired girl's chin as she said, "Do you think anyone would go out with him?"

Hey, Shiori would give away all her books if she could be his girlfriend! Well… maybe half of her books. Or an eighth.

"I don't know," said the other one, and if the short-haired girl was cocky, this girl sounded immensely playful. "Ayumi seemed to be of a different opinion."

Shiori was of a different opinion too! Why didn't Keima just ask her out!? It would've killed two birds with one stone, though only the librarian would know about the second one.

 _'Wait, please don't tell me that Ayumi likes Keima too! I really don't want to add to the list of ever-growing husbands-snatchers,'_ Shiori inwardly groaned, trying to mentally recall how many women were actively trying to woo her love. Obviously, Shiori was one of them. After seeing that display of attachment in the bookstore, she'd have to write down Kanon as well. Also, if long-haired girl was to be believed, Ayumi was a candidate. In addition, if neither of them were Keima's dates, there was a mystery girl. Auah, so much competition!

Burning with a surprising amount of resolve for someone so passive, Shiori walked away, pulling out her seldom used cellphone. She wasn't going to cower in the corner! She was going to tackle the root of the problem. Slamming her thumb down on the "contacts" icon, her fire was slowly quenched as reality hit her.

…She didn't have Keima's number!

* * *

Ayumi Takahara winced as she curled her bicep, inwardly cursing the heavens above as she tried to ignore how her limbs started feeling like putty. Struggling to complete the rep, she decided to look around for inspiration. Her eyes settled on a kind looking middle aged woman who was the physical therapist for the track-and-field team. Now, don't misunderstand; Ayumi liked her. On the other hand, she could swear that the older lady enjoyed seeing 16-year-old girls in pain, that sadist. Who else could make a regimen that was this intense? Sometimes, all the girl wanted to do was use her newly toned muscles and sock her in the face.

That burst of inner rage was enough for Ayumi to bring the 20-pound dumbbell up towards her chest, completing her reps for the day. Noticing the huffing, the physical therapist walked up to her with a broad grin on her face.

"Nice work today, Ayumi."

"Um, thank you, Ms. Chiko. I'll be taking my leave."

Ayumi turned around and tried to leave but was stopped by a hand that was placed on her shoulder.

"By the way, I think Coach has something to tell you tomorrow, so try not to miss training."

 _'What does she mean by that?'_ mentally mused Ayumi as she simply gave her therapist a nod and walked out the door. The runner decided to put her mind to the task, hoping to gleam some kind of insight into what her coach was up to. The only big event that should be on her coach's mind was the big interschool track-and-field meet, so maybe the announcement had something to do with that. Ayumi hoped that she wasn't going to be a watergirl again like in middle school.

"I wonder if I could convince Miyako to take my place," Ayumi thought, just as she heard a little jingle from inside the bag slung on her shoulder. Shrugging it off, the girl reached into it, pulling out her cell that had a message notification plastered on its front. It was a message from Chihiro, asking the runner to check up on the normal girl's rival.

Ignoring the chill in her bones, Ayumi punched in a reply to Chihiro. Then, she slammed her thumb down on the "contacts" icon, and unlike a certain someone, she actually had Keima's number, so her call request was actually patched through.

"…Ayumi?" she heard Keima say, sounding a little winded. That sounded off klaxon alarms in Ayumi's head. She was sure that Keima wouldn't go out of his way to exert himself physically, even if he didn't have his games to stave off the boredom. That chill she felt only grew.

"A-ah, Keima. Are you busy?" Ayumi managed to stammer out, trying her best to calm her nerves. She was doing this for Chihiro. Definitely. Ayumi wasn't sabotaging any potential dates of his because she wanted to. Her grip on her phone tightened, her knuckled growing white from the force being exerted.

"Yes, I'm doing something. Why?"

"I see." Ayumi pursed her lips, trying her best to avoid answering Keima's follow-up question. "Doing what, exactly?"

"I'm on a date."

' _B-blunt!'_ Ayumi swallowed hard, as the chill crawling up her spine finally enveloped her. She _knew_ that Keima would find a date! She didn't think it'd be that quickly, however. It just goes to show that even though Keima was very slowly opening up to her, she still had a lot to uncover. She shook those thoughts aside. She had to catch up to him and stop their date before it escalated into something more… for Chihiro's sake. Definitely.

As Ayumi was at a loss for words, Keima prodded, "Ayumi, are you still there?"

"Y-yes, I am. Just lost in thought. Where are you? I might need you to pick something up for me again."

"If it's anything in the shopping district, I can pick it up for you."

"Oh, never mind then. Thanks, Keima," the runner said, hanging up the call. Slipping the now silent phone back into her drawstring bag, she pulled out the ribbon Keima gave her a while back.

"I'm doing this for Chihiro," Ayumi muttered under her breath, bringing the ribbon up to her hair and tying it back. She quickly broke into a sprint, hoping she'd be able to intercept him.

* * *

"Who was that, Keima?" Kusunoki Kasuga asked, walking alongside the boy as they looked for cute things to do on their date. She wasn't sure what to think about the look Keima Katsuragi had on his face when he was taking that call. It wasn't any expression she had ever seen on him since they had met. Usually, his features were stony, seemingly uncaring about the events happening around him. It always seemed like he wanted to keep his distance, head in the clouds about something. Gaming, maybe? Even during their little date, she could sense Keima holding back his abhorrent cynicism, and while she did appreciate that he was trying his best to get her to unleash that _other_ strength she had within her, she felt like that facade wasn't his true self.

If he could unearth her hidden side, she'd try her best to unearth his.

"An acquaintance," Keima said, pocketing his phone.

 _'An annoyance,'_ Keima thought.

He could practically hear her running towards the shopping district the moment she hung up on him. The Capturing God wondered if leading her to where he and Kusunoki were was a good idea. Oh well, the information she'd give him about how much progress Chihiro had made – most likely none - would more than make up for any cons Ayumi dragged with her. Feeling a calm before the storm, Keima tried his best to relax, deciding to rest his eyes on a couple sharing a bench. What a mistake.

Soft-served ice cream on a cone was held in between the couple by the boyfriend. With red tinting her cheeks, the girl leaned in, licking the icy treat along its length. Keima could hear the smirking boy say, "You're letting this side melt."

The nerd saw the boy lean in and join his date, tracing his tongue along the base of the cream in order to prevent any dripping. It was a fairly intimate act that required close proximity and close trust with the other person in order to do: all things that the God of Conquests wasn't very fond of. He'd stick to licking things with girls in the realm of games, thank you very much!

"We're trying that out, Keima," Kusunoki informed him, causing his eyes to widen significantly. She could see him dig his heels into the ground. She tilted her head out of curiosity. Wasn't he the one who wanted her to explore her _other_ side? Why was he so apprehensive all of a sudden? Deciding that she wanted to feel that tingling sensation she felt earlier, Kusunoki did not relent, bringing the poor boy in front of the ice cream vendor.

Forking over a few bills, the martial artist said, "One vanilla, please."

"Is it Valentine's Day already? You two are the fourth couple I've seen today," the girl joked, plopping a scoop of ice cream onto a cone.

The tall girl's cheeks darkened as Keima scratched the back of his head. "O-oh, we aren't-"

"Sure you aren't, miss," the vendor said, handing the embarrassed high schooler the treat. "Have a nice day with your not-boyfriend."

Before the fighter could continue to clarify her position, Keima just walked away, prompting the girl to walk after him, much to the entertainment of the ice cream vendor. Wordlessly, the two sat at a nearby bench, faces as red as cherries.

 _'Huh, I bet if Ayumi were here, she'd be incredibly amused. She always did tell me to leave my comfort zone,'_ the nerd mused, eyes locked with Kusunoki's. _'I think this counts. Ugh, why did it have to be sweets though? What a shitty game.'_

Kusunoki could feel it: that tingling feeling. It only seemed to grow as she felt his gaze on her eyes, felt his breath on her face. Not even the frost wafting from the ice cream was cooling her flush. She had no idea why she was feeling this way, but it gave her an intense rush, like coming off a victory high at a martial arts competition. Desiring to savor the sensation, she didn't hesitate and dove right in, bringing her tongue to the treat. Sweet.

She could see the reluctant boy, face as red as a cherry, lean in with eyes closed.

Even sweeter.

* * *

Well, Keima was now sure that Kusunoki was more open with others. She didn't fret about people giving her glances as they walked down the street, she kept the steel out of her voice whenever she talked to others, and every time she glanced at him, he could feel warmth radiate off of her. All in all, it was progress that was impressive but not surprising.

Still, she was a little _too_ warm for Keima's liking. It was as if something within her had awakened, and it was now trying to experience as many things as possible before her newfound fire died down. She actually paid a sizable chunk of money for cute accessories to go with her bag, poked her head into a boutique to admire the "surprisingly intriguing" clothing, and she even bought an orange scrunchie to tie her hair up for tournament regulations.

What was with athletic girls and hair-tying?

"My hair shouldn't appear too egregious," Kusunoki commented, unaware of the goosebumps crawling up Keima's back at the somewhat familiar sight, "or is the color, what they call, 'clashing' with my eyes?"

"It suits you," the nerd succinctly put, remembering in the back of his head that he had to build this "date" up to a kiss, all thanks to a certain someone.

Keima circled his arm around to the back of her head, closing the space between them. Grabbing the scrunchie holding her ponytail together, he gently yanked it off, sending her brown hair cascading down her back. Flashing her a smile, the Capturing God continued, "But I think I like it better this way."

"I-I only have to tie my hair up for my competitions anyway," Kusunoki said, avoiding Keima's stunning gaze by staring at the scrunchie in his hand. The boy watched as the martial artist, red in the face, walked over to the cashier and bought her new accessory.

Seeing her rather intense reaction to his subtle movements, Keima knew that he would probably have the bet in the bag in no time flat unless something – or someone - were to crop up and ruin his day. All he had to do was take her out to dinner at some random ramen place for some closure, walk her home, and kiss her outside of her place. If Keima's calculations were correct, his little athletic stalker wouldn't be able to find them and interrupt their little date until it was too late. Still, she did run fast…

Oh well, either he wins outright or he gets more info. It was a win-win in his book.

Oblivious to Keima's inner scheming, Kusunoki put a hand to her stomach, asking, "I'm feeling rather famished, actually. Dinner?"

"Sure," Keima said, walking out of the store.

Unbeknownst to the two of them, Mai-High's speeding bullet had finally caught up to them after a few minutes of a break-out sprint from school. Slightly out of breath, Ayumi made sure to keep a fair distance from the dating couple in order to be more inconspicuous. Her eyes narrowed at the comfy display in front of her.

 _'Kusunoki Kasuga. Why am I not surprised?'_ Ayumi inwardly mused, noting how bitter her inner voice sounded. Still, she had to admit that she was impressed by how different Kusunoki was from her behavior the other day. She was smiling more often, her stance was at ease, and she seemed all around calmer than the cold-hearted martial artist her track-and-field upperclassman had described.

Ayumi also couldn't help but notice how Kusunoki's gaze lingered at Keima's when his attention was somewhere else, and she could see how the martial artist's calloused hand seemed to graze the gamer's. She felt something settle deep in the pit of her stomach, and the runner was loath to admit it…

…But she knew it was absolutely unadulterated jealousy. She wanted to be the one giving him sideways glances. She wanted to be the one to gingerly caress his hand. She wanted to be the one he planned to kiss for the dumb bet, dammit!

Ayumi sighed to herself. How did things get so out of hand? She didn't like him at all when they first interacted in that faculty room. All she could see at the time was a nerd drowning in the world of his own games, the target of a bunch of malicious rumors that she felt were true. Then, that incident at the library changed everything. She could see how he managed to change Shiori, but she couldn't see how he managed to change her until she was already too ensnared to care. Now, she's irate at the fact that Chihiro declared her off-limits. She couldn't help but wonder if Keima would have chosen her for the date if she wasn't banned or if he would have chosen some other girl.

That last thought hurt more than it should have.

Fueled by desire, Ayumi ran after the couple, who ducked into a ramen store. Taking a deep breath in order to steel herself, Ayumi swung open the door and was greeted by the somewhat calming smell of noodles and broth. The athlete kind of missed the taste of ramen. It wasn't very healthy, so it was sorely missing from her prescribed diet. Well, she'd just have to change her cheat day from Sunday to Wednesday then.

"Welcome to Uemoto-ya!" a black-haired teenaged waitress greeted, pulling Ayumi out of her inner monologue. "Feel free to take a seat!"

"I-I'm with those two over there," Ayumi interjected, and with a nod from the staff, she walked over to the two. The poor girl almost froze as Keima caught sight of her, but she hunkered down and carried on.

 _'I'm doing this for me.'_

* * *

Sumire Uemoto wondered if God decided to just go on vacation today, but she felt abandoned when she tried to muster up the resolve to serve the people in front of her. No one could blame her; after all, the tension in the air was dense enough to be a harem anime protagonist. It seemed like a volcano about to burst. The short haired girl, drenched in sweat, seemed to be glaring daggers at the girl across the table from her. Speaking of that long-haired girl, she seemed to be oblivious to the killing intent being projected towards her, simply taking the time to look at the menu. If Sumire had to guess, the first girl was mad at the other because of something the only boy at the booth did.

It wasn't professional to pry, though, so Sumire shoved those thoughts aside and replaced it with a smile.

"Excuse me, but what's the heathiest item on the menu?" the long-haired girl asked, still not fazed by the glare pointed her way.

Sumire responded, "That would be _shio ramen_ bowl. It's made of lighter noodles, so in comparison to the other available bowls, it's certainly healthy. However, it definitely does have more calories than you would probably need for dinner, but hey; you don't go to a ramen place for a Caesar salad, if you catch my drift."

"I see, then I guess I'll have that," Kusunoki concluded, handing the menu back to the kindly waitress. "What are you getting, Keima?"

 _'On a first name basis already, huh? To absolutely no one's surprise,'_ Ayumi thought, trying and failing to hide her disdain by holding the menu in front of her face.

Not even sparing the menu in front of him a glance, Keima said, "I'll have anything."

Keima saw a glint in the waitress's eye at that. Suddenly, Keima started to fear for his taste buds.

"I guess I'll be getting you the 'Sumire Special', Tonkotsu," the waitress said, turning to Ayumi. "And what will you be having, miss?"

" _Tsukemen_ sounds nice. The heat earlier was killing me."

All smiles, the waitress concluded, "Alright, if that's it, I'll be back in fifteen."

As the girl walked towards the counter, Keima asked, "So why did you show up, Ayumi?"

He supposed he was going to be getting info, and while he would have preferred to get things over with concerning the date, Keima would have an easier time gauging how much Kusunoki had changed now that Ayumi was here.

"I just came to return your pen to you," Ayumi said, aware that both of them knew it was a big, fat lie.

"I don't remember lending you a pen-"

"Hmm, is she that acquaintance from earlier, Keima?" asked the martial artist, tilting her head inquisitively while flashing Ayumi a small, warm smile. It made the runner feel slightly guilty, mentally lambasting the girl by Keima's side while Kusunoki was being way more accommodating with her. Ayumi had to keep her jealousy in check; she didn't hate the girl, after all.

"Ah, yes." Ayumi bowed her head a smidge. "My name is Ayumi Takahara. Please take care of Keima and me."

"Kusunoki Kasuga. It's a pleasure to meet you," the long-haired beauty trailed off, taking a more pondering look with her chin resting on her hand.

Remembering that the two high schoolers in front of her were socially inept, Ayumi grasped at straws for a conversation topic, "So… when did you first meet Keima, Kusunoki?"

"Well, he helped me out when I was having a bit of trouble with something concerning my club. Speaking of club, I was actually thinking of making him-"

Ending Kusunoki's statement on a cliffhanger, the waitress returned, their preferred dishes atop the platter in her hand. She slid the rather plain-looking meals onto the table, and while the other two companions looked satiated with what they got, Keima couldn't help but be taken aback by what was presented in front of him.

What was it called again? The "Sumire Special?" It was special; that was for sure. It certainly looked flashy; surrounding the bowl was an assortment of… fruit, of all things. Apparently, the waitress even took the time to carve little bunnies out of the melon slices adorning the side. Heck, there was even a literal cherry on top of the whole shebang.

"To be honest, Tonkotsu," the waitress admitted, a hand to her chest out of nervousness, "this is the first time I've let someone try out my special. I-I have some confidence, though! Oh, and that bowl is on the house, so I hope you don't feel bad if it ends up not being your cup of tea."

"Hey, Sumire – that _is_ your name, right?" She nodded as Keima brought one of the fruit slices to his face. "This thing… kind of looks like a melon."

"That's because it _is_ a melon."

Putting it back in its place, Keima picked up another slice, asking, "So this thing that looks like an orange-"

"Yep, it's a genuine orange!" Sumire cheered as Keima's spirit fell. "Hurry up and dig in, Tonkotsu!"

Gulping, Keima looked around, and aside from the hopeful look in Sumire's eyes, all he got were looks of pity as his companions dug into their meals. Watching them genuinely enjoy their meals despite their plain look caused him to curse the crappy RNG that Reality rolled for him. Of course he'd land in the only store that sold fruit bowls!

At Sumire's request, Keima picked up his chopsticks and started slurping, immediately mourning the death of his taste buds to a sweet demise. It was too sweet! It wasn't just an overwhelming amount of fruitiness though; all the fat and oil normally associated with ramen clashed intensely with the sour taste from the orange and the sweet taste from the melon. Keima felt that the bowl was trying to accomplish too much, without getting any one taste right.

"So?" Sumire egged on. "How does it taste?"

"T-too avant-garde," the nerd managed to choke out, somehow able to speak despite the taste of utter garbage in his mouth. "This sweet… thing isn't ramen."

"Mou," Sumire pouted, not fazed too much by Keima's loathing. "It's really hard to reel in customers without an interesting specialty dish, so I thought I'd make something unique: a sweet bowl! Judging from your expression, I don't think you like it very much."

"…I don't."

* * *

"That weird dish you got sure was something, huh Keima?" Ayumi teased, arms behind her head as the three Mai-High students walked out of the restaurant. "A shame too, since that was some surprisingly good _tsukemen_."

"I agree. It didn't look like much, but my bowl was rather tasty. The look on your face was rather funny though," Kusunoki agreed, giggling at Keima's expense. While Keima was slightly annoyed at the girl's response, the giggling, along with all the other evidence earlier, was proof that Kusunoki broke out of her social shell. The true test, however, was whether she'd be more receptive of "weaker" people attending her club.

"Hey, Kusunoki. If Ayumi were to join your club, would you allow it?"

Surprise lit up on both of their faces. Sending him a sideways look, Kusunoki replied, "Why do you ask?"

"It's just a hypothetical question. I know Ayumi's dedicated to her track-and-field work, but let's say a healthy, athletic girl like Ayumi were to arrive at the club's door tomorrow; would you let her join?"

Thinking for a moment and giving a now flushed Ayumi a glance, Kusunoki grinned.

"I'll leave that up to you, Mr. Club Secretary."

* * *

 **Hey, it's been a while. A few months, to be more exact. To be honest, I had this story outlined since January. Had to get school out of the way. Oh, and I got a Nintendo Switch in April, so that killed my story productivity too. On the bright side, the chapter's 4600 words long - the longest chapter in the story - so I hope that makes up for the insanely long wait.**

 **Now, I don't really have an outline for the next chapter, so the next update might not come out very soon. In fact, it's been so long that I'll have to reread the whole story and peruse my old notes in order to regain my sense of the plot.**

 **Oh, and please tell me if the last bits seem awkward. I'll see what I can do to tune it up a bit.**


	11. Route Taken

_Connection 11: Route Taken_

* * *

"I'll leave that up to you, Mr. Club Secretary," Kusunoki Kasuga said, flashing Keima a hearty grin.

Keima shot her a deep grimace in return, hoping that her intuition had sharpened enough to read his expression and realize that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with the club, especially since he was just about to get his PFP back from Fujiidera. Plus, all signs pointed to the fact that he soon would have to defuse a rather nasty flag that was going to crop up its head in the not-so-distant future, so he didn't want to delegate too many mental resources to shooting down Kusunoki's request without accidentally making her socially regress.

Too many parameters for the player to deal with were signs of shitty game design, and Reality was far from a good game.

"I firmly refuse."

Kusunoki's eyes widened, her mouth forming an "o" shape. "Oh, why not?"

Keima tilted his head down. His gaming experience told him to play coy. "Club obligations."

"Mou, I understand. What club?" Kusunoki asked, a pondering finger on her chin.

"The 'Go-Home' club."

She brought up her hand and gave Keima a light rap on the shoulder. Thanks to her herculean strength, Keima was rebuffed, swaying to the side as if she had swung a fist at him instead.

Pouting, Kusunoki crossed her arms under her chest, commenting, "This is quite a serious matter, Keima. You're the one who brought up the idea of member recruitment. While I'm now fine with the idea of accepting future pupils in spite of their weakness, I'd say that you're better at dealing with them."

While the two students next to Ayumi were bantering back and forth, Ayumi couldn't help but feel exasperated, sweat dripping on her white-hot knuckles. Mentally anguished, Ayumi cried, _'W-why do they talk like they're an old married couple? And in front of me, no less! I never knew being a third wheel would be so horrible. I-I have to do something – after all, Keima's probably planning to kiss her. That's… unsetting.'_

Keima suddenly felt a hand tug on his sleeve. Cutting his conversation with the martial artist short, the boy turned around to face the runner. Her expression, with furrowed brow and pursed lips, held a certain resolve to it, and it reminded him of that day she coerced him into becoming her tutor. Keima could see the fire in her eyes, that there was something in Ayumi that hopefully made her more than just a background character.

It chilled him to the very core.

Dragging Keima far enough from Kusunoki that she wouldn't be able to listen in on their conversation, Ayumi, hand on his arm, asked, "A-are you planning to kiss her, Keima?"

"…Yes."

Keima's eyes refused to meet hers, and it infuriated her to no end. While she was more than used to not being able to make eye contact with the gaming nerd, she felt that this talk the two were having was important enough to look her in the eye. Did he just not care that much about real life stuff? Did his time with her not matter at all? Or maybe… maybe their time together affected him more than she thought. Maybe he felt… guilty?

"Wait, are you doing this because you _like_ Kusunoki or because of that stupid bet?"

He finally gave her a glance, saying, "…I think you know the answer to that."

Before the gamer could even react, the runner's hands shot for his lapel, gripping it tightly. Pulling down on it till they were nose-to-nose, Ayumi exclaimed, "Dammit, you're just playing with her feelings, aren't you!?"

"The 'feelings' she has for me are purely platonic," Keima informed, taking a look over his shoulder to make sure Kusunoki hadn't left yet. "Besides, I was tasked to open up Kusunoki and her feelings, and to be honest, the best way to do that would be to kiss her. I'd be able to explain afterwards anyway."

"That doesn't sit well with me, and even _if_ you aren't just taking advantage of her feelings," Ayumi said, her voice softening a little as her grip on his collar loosened a bit, "don't you care about your first kiss? It should be given to someone you actually like!"

Then something amazing happened.

Excluding when he gamed, Ayumi only saw two kinds of expressions on Keima's face: stone cold stoicism or exasperation. It was a rarity to see him smile outside of his hobby time. It's why Ayumi was so surprised to see the cheeks of the boy she liked redden at the thought of a first kiss, and if she didn't know about his "2D over 3D" mantra, she would have totally thought he was just some nerdy boy with a dose of hopeless romanticism.

Keima choked out, "I-I've already had my first kiss."

"With who?" The 2-B beauty's heart dropped into the pit of her stomach, her grip on him becoming iron.

Ayumi could visibly see Keima gulp. Returning his gaze to her, he started, "Why should it matter to-"

"Oh don't pull that crap with me, mister! Just tell me! Do I know this girl or not!?"

"…I kissed Shiori."

Shaking her head, Ayumi's voice cracked, "N-no way. Her!? When did you guys date? I thought our tutoring session was the first time you met her."

"We have never dated." She felt a bead of sweat fall from his forehead onto the back of the hand she was balling his collar into.

"Wait, so did you two just walk into some secluded part of the library one day and start making out or something?"

"Does Shiori look like that kind of girl?"

"Well I didn't think you looked like a playboy, but here we are."

Keima raised an eyebrow. "You sound like a jealous girlfriend, Ayumi."

Okay, that was her limit. Letting go of the nerd, she backed up, almost bursting at the seams with anger. Mustering all the civility in her body, Ayumi replied, "You disgust me, Katsuragi. Go ahead and win that stupid bet if you really want to. I don't really give a damn what you do anymore."

As the runner turned around and left, Keima couldn't help but pinch the bridge of his nose out of frustration. While maybe he could have handled the bad flag slightly better – the jealous girlfriend remark may have been a tad too far – it was impossible to completely defuse the situation without lying, which would only make more difficult problems pop up in future flags. How troublesome.

Keima took note of the pace that Ayumi was leaving at. If she truly wanted to get away from him, she could have run away; after all, her light jog would likely outpace Keima's breakout sprint. However, Ayumi was just walking, implying that Keima still had a chance to catch up and make amends, but that would mean, if Keima read the route correctly, that he would lose the bet, which didn't sit well with him. Just imagining Chihiro's shit eating grin and what she would force him to do sickened Keima on a fundamental level.

Keima looked over his shoulder. Kusunoki, thanks to her diligence, was waiting patiently for him a few meters ahead with no signs of having eavesdropped. If he wanted to, he could win the bet with Chihiro and possibly draw out more of Kusunoki's other side with one simple kiss. Still, it would close off Ayumi's route for sure; he'd never get to know if she was a Heroine or not.

While the answer was obvious, Keima still didn't like the fact that he was forced to make a route-deciding decision without back-up saves.

"Kusunoki, you can walk home alone, right?" After receiving a nod, Keima continued, "I need to talk to Ayumi some more. I'm sorry for cutting this date short."

"There was no harm done," the martial artist remarked. "I was quite… _satisfied_ by this date, although there were still a few things I wanted to try out before the afternoon had finished. Anyway, I'll be seeing you, Mr. Secretary."

Keima would have shot back if the distance between him and Ayumi had grown. She was a speedy walker, to say the least. He had to go now if he wanted to catch up before he lost sight of her. Not even sparing Kusunoki a farewell, Keima ran after Ayumi.

Deep in her thoughts, Ayumi was surprised when she felt a tug on her sleeve. Ayumi turned around, only to be face to face again with the boy that stirred those deep thoughts in her in the first place.

Keima said, "Please wait up."

"What do you want, Katsuragi?"

From the different way she addressed him, he could feel malice roll off in waves. "Are we really going back to those days, Ayumi?"

"Look, I-I thought you were an okay guy! I didn't know you were the type to just go around kissing girls for the heck of it."

"The kiss was done on the spur of the moment. It also shouldn't have happened. I know kissing Shiori was a mistake, but you know why I wanted to kiss Kusunoki, right?"

"Well it's _your_ fault you accepted the bet, you insufferable idiot!"

Keima's phone beeped. He groaned internally, _'Oh, Kanon. Why did you pick the worst time to message me?'_

"You should check your phone, Katsuragi. Might be a booty call.

Ignoring the scathing jab, he continued, "Okay, you wanted me to try reaching out to Chihiro, right? Taking the bet was one way. Once I won the bet, I would have-"

"What, 'kissed _her_ too'?" the athlete snarked, crossing her arms under her chest.

The gamer pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let me finish my lines, Real woman!"

"Oh, there you go with your gaming jargon again," Ayumi groaned, rolling her eyes. "Just when I thought I had the whole gaming dictionary memorized-"

"Okay, you know what? Let's cut out the padded dialogue boxes. Do you want me to forfeit the bet?"

Without hesitation, the runner said, "Yes."

"Anything else?"

Ayumi could feel her knees feeling weak, her chest feeling sore. She could barely think straight. The sense of pure unadulterated betrayal was simply unfathomable, especially for a girl who had never been in love before. First loves were supposed to be pure and innocent, not doped with all this malice and self-loathing. If she had known that her first love would be such a rollercoaster, would she have still strapped herself in for the ride?

In her mind, Ayumi knew that the best decision would be to just leave. Obviously, Keima wasn't interested in her, if he was fine with kissing other girls and flirting with them right in front of her face.

In her heart, however, all Ayumi wanted to do was to make him hers.

All of a sudden, Ayumi went from spouting livid lines to murmuring soft whispers, "I-I want you to kiss me instead…"

…WHAT KIND OF RUSHED FLAG WAS THIS!?

"Huh? I couldn't hear you clearly." That was a load of bull, of course. They were only a foot apart at most, and Ayumi hadn't bothered to make her muttering too quiet to hear, so obviously he heard it. The flag was too good to be through. After all, it's not like he was trying to accumulate love points with her, opting for mere observation instead. She would probably change her mind later on, so he'd give her a chance to retract her statement.

"Ah, it was nothing. I-I'm just surprised that you'd let Chihiro have the right to drag you around like this."

Ayumi wasn't wrong. Chihiro was going to work him into the ground thanks to the terms of the bet. While he'd be getting his PFP back, he probably wouldn't be able to use it much because of all the tasks she'd offload onto him. Still…

Ayumi flashed him a small smile.

…he supposed it was worth it.

* * *

 **Hi. Author's Notes from now on will be on my profile so they don't clutter the story. Hope to see you there.**


	12. Crisscrossed

_Connection 12: Crisscrossed_

* * *

Shiori was tired.

Shiori, reading while lying on her bed, felt rather defeated. She had walked all around the school looking for Keima to no avail, and unlike a certain athlete, Shiori's legs weren't in tip-top shape, so using them to walk around Mai-High's rather expansive campus made them feel like lead by the end of the day. Groaning, the librarian paused her reading session to try massaging her aching calves.

However, the physical pain wasn't nearly as bad as her internal anguish at thinking that she hadn't made any progress towards wooing Keima, especially since the competition seemed so fierce. Shiori saw herself as a plain girl with an unappealing social ineptness. Compared to Ayumi, who was a cute track-and-field star, and Kanon, who was in a different league altogether, Shiori felt she needed to really step up her game if she wanted to end up with the boy she loved; she couldn't afford to waste a single second, which was why she felt so dismayed at the fact that instead of bringing Keima some breakfast the next day, she'd just have to twiddle her thumbs till she could ask where he lived.

"Keima Katsuragi," the bookwork whispered, her cheeks taking a flush. It seemed the honeymoon phase hadn't ended yet. Just thinking about him brought a dumb smile on her face.

An idea struck her. Thanks to social media, finding information about people was easier than ever. She wasn't speaking from experience; while she owned a smartphone and a laptop, they were cold to the touch, often neglected in favor of a comfy book. Maybe it was time to change that.

Picking up her phone, she googled "Keima Katsuragi" with the hope that she'd get a number, an email, or anything, really. First item on the results page wasn't a listing from a social media site, however; it was a website of a café. Curiosity getting the better of her, Shiori tapped the hyperlink. She was taken to a humble website detailing various facts about "Café Grandpa." One thing that interested her was that the café also doubled as the home for the owner Mari Katsuragi, her husband Keiichi, and their son…

"…Keima."

It seemed like she found what she needed.

* * *

Mari was drowsy.

Stifling a yawn, Mari Katsuragi walked down the stairs, ready to setup shop for the day. It was rather chilly, and she had a half a mind to go back upstairs and put on more layers. In the end, she decided to just get the kitchen prep over with.

She would have, had she not seen a peculiar sight through the translucent glass of the door. Squinting her eyes, Mari could make out a silhouette trying its best to peer through the glass. The mother of one was on guard. While her old reputation as a gangster usually kept the average thief away from Café Grandpa, every now and then some fool would try and break in. Taking off her glasses and letting her hair down, Mari approached the door with straight shoulders, hoping that she wouldn't have to take out the trash.

What she didn't expect, when she swung open the door, was a small girl in Mai-High clothing clutching a bento box to her chest. She was wide eyed, obviously spooked out of her wits, almost dropping the box she had been clutching so tightly.

Not expecting a customer to pop up three hours before opening time, Mari quickly redid her hair and put on her glasses. "Hello there. I'm afraid we aren't open, so I can't serve you anything yet. Is there anything else you need?"

"O-oh no, I'm not here for the coffee," the girl clarified. "I'm f-friends with Keima, and I made breakfast earlier."

"E-eeeh!?" Mari's jaw dropped. While she loved her brilliant son, and she wouldn't trade him for anyone else, she didn't exactly have a high opinion on his socialization skills. After all, for as long as she had known him, he was glued to the screen of his PFP, and he had never brought home a friend from school. The closest thing he had to a friend, to her knowledge, was a girl named Tenri, though she moved away a long time ago. Now, that number suddenly doubled over night, and this new friend just happened to be a cute girl too. Oh, Mari could just _picture_ the grandchildren-

Mari was brought out of her reverie by the girl's shivers. Swinging open the door, the mother led the girl into the store saying, "Oh, sorry for zoning out; I was just so surprised to learn that Keima had actual friends. I didn't mean to leave you out in the cold."

"It's nice to meet you," Mari greeted. "I'm Mari Katsuragi."

"Shiori Shiomiya," the girl replied, taking a seat on the bar seat. She had to admit that the café looked rather chic. It seemed like it would have been a nice place to relax with a nice book in hand. A shame it was a train station away. "This is a nice place you have, Mrs. Katsuragi."

"Oh Shiori, my dear, please call me Mari. 'Mrs. Katsuragi' makes me feel old," the older woman said, smiling. The smile disappeared, however, when she thought of the boy sleeping upstairs. Did that son of hers even know what he was missing? Here was a cute girl who must have gotten up at five o' clock at the very least to be able to change, cook whatever was in the bento, and commute over to where Keima lived, and he was being busy sleeping in. She had half a mind to walk upstairs and drag him down for Shiori.

"Is Keima awake yet, Mrs. Ka- I mean Mari? I-I'm rather anxious to get this into his hands," Shiori said, placing the bento down on the bar in front of her.

Mari, looking at the wall clock as she walked off to the kitchen, said, "He should be down in half an hour. That should give us a bit of time to plate your dish, right? What have you made for my favorite son of mine?"

"Oh, um, I just started cooking a few days ago, so I stuck with something simple: omurice," the librarian replied, popping off the lid of her bento box as Mari returned with a bowl. Holding the bowl in her hand, Shiori was surprised at how cute it looked. Well, she was in a café, after all, so it wouldn't be too out of place; although, why did you need bowls in a café? Weren't mugs all you needed-

"It smells delicious, sweetie," Mari said, sitting across from Shiori. While she did want to be friendly with Keima's knew friend, Mari couldn't help but feel the insatiable need to ask her questions. A friend of Keima's was a rare specimen, so Mari wouldn't pass up the chance to learn more about her. "So cooking, huh? Are you part of the cooking club?"

"Ah no, I'm part of the library committee. I love- er, I'm fond of books," Shiori answered, carefully placing her handiwork on the plate in front of her. "I can go a whole day with my head buried in one."

"That reminds me of a certain someone," the wife remarked, looking at the staircase leading up to the bedrooms. "Which reminds me; Are you from 2-B?"

Trying her best to look Keima's mom in the eye, Shiori said, "No, I'm from the classroom next door: 2-C."

"So how did you two meet?"

Mari saw a red hue flare up on Shiori's porcelain cheeks, which she found incredibly irresistible. All she wanted to do was to reach over the table and pinch the life out of the high school girl's cheeks. That was the moment Mari swore to get her and her son wed, even if the wedding had to be held in god damn South America or something.

"K-Keima was the one who brought me out of my shell," Shiori confidently said, shedding her polite smile for one of genuine happiness. Her glee was so contagious that Mari could feel the corners of her mouth move up too. "If it weren't for him, I would have been a shy, stuttering mess. He saved me in my time of need, Mari."

So Keima went from being an antisocial gamer to being a social worker? If Shiori hadn't just given her the equivalent of a maiden's confession, Mari wouldn't have believed it for one second. Now, however, she was going to have a long, hard talk with Keima over what he secrets he had been keeping from his dear old mother.

Reaching out for Shiori's hands and grasping them tightly, Mari pleaded, "Please, marry my son."

Shiori, flush extending to her whole body now, stuttered, "W-WHAT!?"

Keima, just barely out of sight, was a little exasperated, already sweating despite having just taken a bath ten minutes ago. This new event revealed a rather sinister route, one that Keima wasn't fond of going down. He should have seen it coming. Exhibit A: Shiori just happened to be there on the auditorium rooftop to save him when Kanon decided to go to town with him and his PFP. Exhibit B: Shiori suddenly appeared in the morning and is talking to his mom for his hand in marriage, and he was sure he hadn't handed out his home address before.

Were these the signs, not of a quiet intellectual, but of a budding yandere?

Of course not. The bookworm was too meek and delicate to become anything as obsessive as a yandere.

"Y-yes, yes, a million times yes!" Keima could hear Shiori exclaim.

…Or maybe she was.

* * *

Ayumi was ecstatic.

Holding a returned test paper in her hands as the bell signaled for recess, Ayumi was absolutely beaming, a smile from cheek to cheek. She did it; she passed Ms. Nikaido's grueling test! She wouldn't have to get forcibly removed from the track-and-field team, which was a huge relief. Now, if only they didn't delegate her to water duty again like last time. Definitely the worst part of track-and-field. She just had to thank Keima for giving her that tutoring lesson. Maybe she could thank him in a… creative way.

A finger on her lips, Ayumi's eyes darted for Keima's seat, only to be greeted by emptiness. The bell had rung not even a moment ago. Weird. She never really thought of him as a fast guy. Heck, he seemed to be dead without his PFP at his side. In fact, she hadn't seen him with his PFP in a while. She wondered what happened.

Pulling out her phone, Ayumi decided to call him. After punching in his number, she held up the phone to her ear. She was greeted by a busy dial tone.

"Mou, what happened to him?"

"Ayumi, how did you do?" Ayumi turned around to face her friends. Miyako had a warm smile on her face, while Chihiro was leafing through her magazine with a grin.

"Got a hundred! Keima is the best tutor I've ever had," beamed Ayumi, holding her perfect paper in front of her awe-struck friends.

"That's great. Heh, maybe you should ask Keima for lessons when you win, Chihiro," the long-haired girl joked, elbowing Chihiro. Chihiro stuck out her tongue in response.

"Very funny, Miyako," the normal girl sarcastically quipped, taking a glance at the red 60 encircled on her test paper. "Well, is he good for anything else, really? I might as well get those easy A's."

 _'So he hasn't forfeited yet,'_ Ayumi internally mused, holding back her tongue. Outwardly, Ayumi said, "Speaking of Keima, have you two seen him?"

"Otamega bolted out of here the second the bell rung," Chihiro responded, turning a page. "Maybe he found a date. Oh, who am I kidding? I bet he's ready to wave that white flag as we speak."

Ayumi felt a buzz in her skirt pocket. Sticking her arm in it, Ayumi fished for her phone, which was vibrating. A call? Pulling out the device, the runner looked at the contact displayed on the screen.

"Speak of the devil," Ayumi muttered. On her phone was a candid shot of Keima looking down at his PFP, the sunset giving a picture a warmth that stoked Ayumi's flames. She remembered when she took the picture while he wasn't looking as they walked side by side going home after a long day of school, and she couldn't help but smile fondly in remembrance.

Swiping to accept the call, the runner held the phone up to her ear, asking, "Where are you, Keima? You just disappeared after second period."

"I got something that'll make what I'm about to do less painful. Hand the phone to Chihiro."

"Hmph. If you can say it to Chihiro, you can say it to me too," Ayumi remarked, not even trying to hold back her unbridled jealousy. Maybe this "love" thing was a little too all-consuming.

As Ayumi debated whether throwing herself at her training would make her less obsessive, Keima replied, "Fine. Just tell her to meet me at the rooftop after school. I'll be throwing the bet – and my pride - at your request."

"Aw, you sound so sad," Ayumi joked. Bringing her voice to a whisper, she continued. "Maybe now you'll stop taking dumb bets and kissing other girls."

…Okay, maybe the obsession was getting a _tad_ out of hand.

* * *

Chihiro was smug.

Leaning back, the normal girl relished her victory on one of the rooftop benches next to a bush. Keima looked like he'd rather jump in the bush than be around the gloating 2-B girl. Despite his obvious disdain, Chihiro didn't bother hiding even a single percent of her glee.

After all, she did it; with some help from her friends, she won the bet! She didn't even have to break a sweat! Heck, why did she even go out of her way to get Yuuta's number when she knew Keima was just going to surrender anyway? Oh well, the bet was totally worth it either way. She was one step closer to winning her crush over, and she had a new slave to boss around and do busywork for her.

Now, if only they could agree on a duration.

"So, this makes you my errand boy for a year, right?" Chihiro asked, looking at the slave- er, classmate next to her on the rooftop bench. Keima rolled his eyes.

"A day."

"Hm, how about… _no_. A semester."

"You sure are trying to make the most of this, huh?"

"Of course!" cheered Chihiro. "You don't know good this makes me feel, putting you in your place and all."

Keima rubbed his temples. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but this is worse than I thought. One month."

Chihiro clicked her tongue, wagging a finger in front of the nerd. "I'm not going any lower than a semester, Otamega. If you promise to stop associating yourself with Ayumi, then I'll drop it to a week. Doesn't that sounds nice?"

The whole reason why he was subjecting himself to… _her_ was because of Ayumi, so he shook his head. "Ayumi would run me over if I were to cut ties with her. Whatever, I'll take the semester."

"This is where I'd say 'let's shake on it', but I don't want to get any Otamega germs on me," Chihiro huffed, crossing her arms as she started flipping through her magazine.

Keima, following suit with a PFP instead, responded, "If anything, it's not spread by touch, otherwise Ayumi would have contracted it already."

Chihiro's high spirit suddenly dropped. She realized that the bet wasn't going to keep the nerd away from her best friend, especially since Ayumi was probably the reason why Keima was actually holding himself to the bet. The fact that Ayumi was actually being a good influence on Keima irked the normal girl to no end. It almost implied that Keima was a person capable of change, which didn't really sit well with her. She failed to see anything worth redeeming in the nerd. For his case, he was guilty until proven innocent in her mind.

Oh well. All Chihiro would have to do was make him too busy to infect Ayumi.

Her stomach grumbled. "Otamega, get me-"

Hearing the door to the rooftop open, Chihiro turned towards it and saw the (current) boy of her dreams. Oh, why could Chihiro not resist his devilish looks, his broad shoulders? From the stories she's heard, you could chop carrots on his washboard abs. Oohlala….

Wait, who was that girl with him!?

"You're drooling. Do I have to be your nanny too?"

Oh crap, she forgot she was with Otamega! Grabbing him by the collar, she tossed him into the bush, not guilty at all that she found the thud he made to be quite satisfying. Following up, she ducked behind the bench, straining her eyes in order to make out the features of her boyfriend-snatcher.

Chihiro gulped hard. The girl was gorgeous! Long chocolate-brown hair, fair porcelain skin, tall and poised stature, lithe yet curvy figure – she was every man's dream! Compared to Chihiro's modest stats, the woman before her was a beast! She could only hope to radiate even half the confidence the mystery girl had. Hmm, Chihiro could have sworn she knew the girl, probably from the rumor mill. Her name was on the tip on her tongue. Hmm…

"You mind if we continue talking over dinner? I'm not completely satisfied yet." she heard Yuuta say. Oh, Yuuta, you're taking her out to dinner? You went out with Chihiro just yesterday. Even though it was under the pretense of getting his clothes clean, she asked for his number and got it, so he had to be at least satisfied by their outing. Why was he on the rebound so quickly!?

"Hm, I'm not averse to the idea, but I can't help but feel we could wrap this up right now." She sounded so stoic. Did standing next to Yuuta not ignite the fire in your heart, you drop-dead beauty? Just what kind of standards did this woman have?

"Oh, I insist. You've been too kind; I simply have to repay the favor."

"Very well. Don't disappoint, Mr. Ayasaki." She flashed him a small smile, causing Yuuta to grin broadly.

 _'That's not fair!'_ Chihiro internally grumbled. _'You're not allowed to be both hot_ and _cute!'_

Once they were walking away, Chihiro popped her head out. Oh, what was she going to do? At this point, she was going to lose Yuuta! Thinking about it, was he really worth the trouble? He was cool and hot and all, but this was asking too much out of her. All she wanted to do was go with the flow, maybe hope that some of that coolness would rub off on her.

Then she turned to her currently-occupied company, who didn't look miffed in the slightest at the fact that he was face first in a bush as long as he got his steady flow of dopamine. Yeah, the effort was going to be worth it if it meant she could show this loser how things were done.

Pulling the nerd out of the shrubbery, Chihiro said, "Alright, slave. First task: we're going to follow those two."

"Huh?" Keima said, lazily moving his gaze onto the couple in question as they started their walk down the stairs. Chihiro's eyebrow raised when the nerd's eyes widened. Pocketing his PFP, he pinched the bridge of his nose, saying, "Oh, you've got to be kidding me. What kind of route is this? Reality is such a shitty game."

Unused to the gamer's lingo, Chihiro asked, "Earth to Otamega; we speak Japanese in this country. Do you happen to speak it? Actually, hold that thought; we're about to lose them."

 _'I thought we were done with Kusunoki's event,'_ Keima mentally groaned. _'At least lengthen the gap in between story arcs a bit more, you poorly paced game!'_

* * *

Kanon was terrified.

Ms. Okada had just told her that the music video they were going to shoot was to be held at a waterpark, atop a stage in the middle of a large pool. The manager could see the anxiety on the idol's face, so she tried her best to calm her down, saying that it'll be a relatively low stress environment and that she could enjoy the place at her leisure during down time.

The problem was that she couldn't enjoy the place because she didn't know how to swim!

Kanon refused to tell her manager that, however. After all, the staff worked so hard on the production of that great looking set, and if they had to compromise in order to deal with her ineptitude, it would result in a worse product: not something you're interested in when you want your message resonating with everyone.

As always, when she felt distressed and couldn't turn to anyone around her, she had one guy on speed dial. Tapping the shortcut on her phone, Kanon patiently waited for the bespectacled man on the other end of the line to pick up.

After what seemed like an eternity of being on hold, Kanon heard that ever-calming voice of his come out of the receiver. "…You need something?"

"Keima, I really need your advice. Can we grab a cup of coffee at our usual place?"

"I'm tied up right now. Can we just talk tomorrow?"

"Hm, but this is way more serious than hair or traffic though," Kanon stated. "Alright, here's a compromise; I'll just go to you and help you out with your thing first. Then we can go back to our place!"

"Wait, wha-" With a click, Kanon hung up. Smiling to herself, she opened the tracking app she installed on her phone just for this specific reason.

Ah, it was a good thing Keima didn't care for his phone as much as his PFP; otherwise, it would have been impossible to plant a bug on it!

* * *

"Otamega, stop answering your phone. You're going to compromise the sting," chastised Chihiro, who was squinting her eyes, trying her best to get a good look at what the other couple was doing. Currently, they were at a park bench situated right outside of Uemoto-ya, which just happened to be where Kusunoki and Yuuta were eating their early dinner.

Keima rolled his eyes. All the two others did was make a beeline to the restaurant, and from what few snippets he could hear, their conversation was all awkward small talk; it was an art Kusunoki had yet to master. Faced with insurmountable evidence, Keima concluded, "Like I said earlier, you're overthinking this. Odds are they're just discussing stuff about the club she finally opened to new members."

"Yeah, Yuuta – a guy, mind you – is asking about joining a _Women's_ Martial Arts club. Almost as unbelievable as you kissing a girl."

 _'Is the Real trying to reuse conversation topics or something? Lay off on the Shiori kiss, please,'_ Keima internally asked, even though he knew Reality would never give his bug report the time of day.

Another beep came from his pocket. Ignoring the daggers Chihiro glared into his side, Keima placed his PFP gently on his lap and whipped out his phone, _Ayumi Takahara_ emblazoned on his screen. Great, another phone call from another high-maintenance woman. And just when he was beginning to think being with Ayumi was somewhat relaxing-

"Hello?"

"Hey hey hey, Keima! Guess what~"

Well she sounded positively ecstatic. "Yes?"

"I got the part! I'll be representing the school in two weeks!"

"Nice to hear." For the first time in the whole day, Keima genuinely smiled. If he could give Reality one thing, it was that the characters he's met so far tried their god damn best: the only thing he could respect the Real for. On the other hand, it seems Ayumi's route was progressing a little too fast for comfort. First the impromptu pseudo-confession yesterday, now the fact that she told him about the achievement she's most proud of before anyone else? It was concerning to say the least. Hoping to confirm his suspicions, the God of Conquests asked, "Who else have you told?"

"O-oh, uh, you're the only one I've told so far."

Keima gulped. At least she was honest.

"Ah, it feels great not being the water girl this time!" cheered Ayumi, segueing away from the embarrassing fact. "I'll make you proud of me!"

Filled with something he couldn't quite put into words, Keima said, "I know-"

He saw Kusunoki and Yuuta walk out of Uemoto-ya, and instead of turning left to go to the train station or right to go back to school, they walked forward, making their way to where Keima and Chihiro were situated. Goes to show that hiding in plain sight wasn't always the best idea. He hoped Kusunoki wasn't going to beat him too hard for eavesdropping.

He wondered how Chihiro fared at getting caught red handed. Keima looked to his right. The girl with the sharp tongue was stunned, not moving a single inch. That answered him.

Keima told Ayumi, "I have to go. We'll celebrate some other time."

"Oh, a celebration? I'm game for some yakiniku, if you're treating me."

"Wait, wha-"

"It's a date, Keima!"

 _Click._

Being on the receiving end of yet another hung up call, Keima decided to embrace his fate, making sure to put his PFP in his bag in order to keep it safe from any scuffles. Oh, just spare the PFP, Kusunoki; he just got it from Fujiidera that morning!

He was surprised when the fists never flew.

Yuuta, a large grin on his face, approached the two, saying, "Speak of the devil! Kusunoki here talked a lot about you, Keima. So you're the one who convinced her to open up the club to newbies, right?"

"Yes." Meanwhile, Chihiro was still frozen in place, the shock of getting caught too much for her.

"That's great. I was just asking Kusunoki all about the club. After all, my sister has always wanted to take up martial arts," Yuuta explained, slowly thawing Chihiro out of her stasis. As she started to move, she also got herself noticed by the man she was crushing on. "Wait, is that you, Chihiro? Oh, were we interrupting something?"

"O-of course not, Yuuta!" Chihiro rose to her own defense. "We were just lounging around after school."

"That's a relief." Yuuta turned to the tall woman at his side. "Speaking of relief, you _are_ going to take good care of my sister, right?"

"Like I said five times ago, injuries and martial arts come are joined at the hip. However, half of the current members are trained in first aid, and health insurance is part of the tuition you pay to the Maijima Private High School, so she is quite safe."

 _'Of course fifty percent of the club members know first aid; there are only two of them! I don't remember bringing out your crafty side,'_ internally quipped Keima.

"Well, that's the best that I'm going to get, huh? While I don't really feel sure about this, I can't say no to my sister. Thanks for calming me down at least," Yuuta said, rubbing the back of his neck. He turned to the nerd once more, saying, "I think you'll be expecting a club application tomorrow morning."

"Right." Rubbing his temples, Keima decided it was better for his limited sanity to not argue against the secretary position anymore.

Suddenly, the three other gazes were pointed at something behind him. Curiosity getting the better of him, he turned around, face to face with a figure covered head to toe in winter garb. While that day was a bit colder than most, it wasn't even close to cold enough to be wearing a coat and scarf. It was to the point that the clothing made it hard to make out any facial features; all anyone could see were her white complexion, a strand of pink hair, and a pair of deep pink eyes.

"Found you, Keima."

* * *

 **Full AN on my profile.**


	13. Enter Mio Aoyama

_Connection 13: Enter Mio Aoyama_

* * *

Keima had thought that he was used to people dogpiling requests on him ever since Ayumi _suggested_ that he tutor her. Bringing Ayumi's grade up, helping Shiori with her shyness, being a pillar of comfort for an idol, bringing Kusunoki's soft side out – it seemed that he spent just as much time pursuing real events as he did with in game ones. It was something that the Capturing God desperately wanted to change, although with Chihiro, Kusunoki, and Kanon plopping more work on his plate, he didn't think he'd get his gift anytime soon.

Speaking of Kanon…

"Found you, Keima," the girl in disguise cooed, pointing a finger gun at the nerd. Her velvety voice, which oozed out as much moe as the idol's lithe frame could muster, was probably capable of making any fan of hers faint in an instant.

Keima was going to faint out of shock. If the only thing his other companions could see was a heavily clothed figure, all Keima could see was one huge death flag for Kanon's career.

 _'D-did she just run out of common sense or something?'_ Keima cried internally. Looking her up and down, he continued, _'That is a horrible disguise! If Yuuta or Chihiro were to take even a single step, they'd probably recognize her. Did she_ want _to spread rumors? Good thing Kusunoki lived under a rock, otherwise 'Miss Superhuman-Senses' would have seen through Kanon's flimsy disguise and ratted us out.'_

First priority was getting Kanon out of there. He knew that she wasn't going to leave without him, so he had to cut whatever event was about to occur short. Keima stood up, briskly walking in front of Kanon. He hoped his lanky frame was broad enough to obscure any direct view of the idol. He looked over his shoulder, telling the others, "Have to go. Bye, you three."

The martial artist nodded, though Keima noticed her posture was rather stiff. Seemed like she was wary of the surprise company. Yuuta, on the other hand, offered an awkward smile and a wave, while Chihiro looked at him with a surprisingly sharp gaze. If Kusunoki had tried to conceal her curiosity, the normal girl was outright suspicious.

"Are those your friends, Keima? Can I meet them?" Kanon said, her voice becoming small and meek at Keima's proximity. If she leaned just a _teeny_ bit forward, she could bury her head in his warm-looking cravat. She had never been this close to anyone before, let alone a cute boy her age. Idols never had enough time or energy to become close to all of their fans – all Kanon wished to do was to a least become close through song – so this sensation she felt stir in her chest was all new. She made sure to relish it, despite not knowing what it really meant.

"You're in a disguise for a reason, Kanon," Keima harshly whispered back, earning a small smile of embarrassment from the idol.

Of course, _someone_ refused to drop the issue. Chihiro asked, "Aren't you going to introduce us to your friend, Ota- Katsuragi?"

"She's shy in front of others," the God of Conquests made up. Big fat lie. She has performed in front of thousands before. Talking to three people her age was nothing, but Keima didn't want them to be privy to that fact. Turning the pinkette around, he hooked their arms together and walked away as fast as he could, dragging Kanon with him.

Luckily for Keima, no one chose to pursue, although he could never forget the incredulous look Chihiro flashed him. He had seen that same look in real life once before, when Ayumi had learned about the kiss that seemed to bite him in the ass more and more. It unnerved the Capturing God. It was a rather strong reaction for someone who never seemed to give two shits about him. He hoped the flag was a red herring.

Kanon pouted. "They seemed trustworthy. Maybe I should have introduced myself."

"No one should know you're associated with me. It would tarnish your reputation."

"That girl that had the fliers knows we're together."

Ignoring what that sentence implied, Keima rebutted, "She has little social pull. No one would believe her if she spilled the beans. Those three, however, have way more influence."

Kanon's pout never left, but her protests stopped, so the duo made their way to "their place" in peaceful silence. Stepping in, Keima had to admit that the atmosphere was incredibly relaxing, though he'd definitely argue Café Grandpa edged it out, albeit barely. Even though the bookstore half was useless in the nerd's eyes – digital books were the way of the future, after all – the café part was warm, with multiple round tables flanked by seats for study groups and even more smaller tables with just two chairs: perfect for a couple on a date.

Even though they were not a couple and were not on a date, that's where the two made their way to after getting their drinks. Plopping down in the seat, Keima opened his wallet, watching as the metaphorical moth flew out of it. Aside from the lonely 500-yen coin Keima knew was in his pocket, he was out of cash. Keima pursed his lips. He'd get a fresh supply of M-funds Sunday evening, so he'd have to survive on just that coin. It was enough for the next day, but he'd have to starve on Saturday. He grimaced. _'I should have seen this coming. Why am I suddenly out of funds?'_

The pink haired girl, happily sipping away at her strawberry frappe, reminded him of what – or who – exactly burned a hole in his wallet. It was the girls. Ribbons for runners, dates with martial artists, consultations with idols: all these events were shaking him down for money. It was another annoying flaw of Reality – gating events behind a resource like money was an archaic mechanic. There was a reason why making money and leveling up stats were traits of _old_ galge.

"So, what's got you all riled up?" Keima started, hoping it was something actually worth his time for once. He was growing tired of simple problems he could have solved over text or phone, especially now that he saw what impact these consultations had on his budget.

Kanon's cheery demeanor dropped, a frown sprouting on her face. "My project next week's going to be held at a waterpark. They'll make me perform on a stage surrounded by water, and… I can't swim. It's embarrassing, I know, but…"

As Kanon rambled on, Keima pursed his lips. He could read between the lines and see why the people-pleasing idol wouldn't want to bring up her aquatic ineptitude to the staff that worked tirelessly to set up the gig for her. Nodding to himself, he was relieved that it was an actual problem.

However, that came with its own caveats. Previously, he'd be able to send her away with a simple one-line solution and that would be the end of it till the next consultation session. Now, it'd would be a multi-event flag. He knew Kanon was a quick learner, and he was rather good at swimming thanks to his PFP-protection skills, but it was something that would simply take time. He surmised that it would take at least three days, at most five, in order to get her seaworthy enough to not drown. He had enough time, and if he was right – and he often was, mind you – he knew a few ways to get access to the pool.

It was a good thing he had gotten _that woman's_ number. Heck, it was a good thing she even has a cellphone at all. She didn't look like the type if Keima were to be honest.

"Bring your two-piece tomorrow, Kanon," interjected Keima. "We're hitting the pool."

* * *

Shiori lied on her bed, holding a history book in front of her more out of habit than of interest. She tried to get back into the groove of learning about Cicero's consul escapades, but the words seemed to swim around the page, the unintelligible prose looking like Sanskrit instead of kanji. She just couldn't focus; after all, she had more exciting things on her mind. She had done it! _Mission 01: Make Him Breakfast!_ was a complete success.

Setting the tome down, Shiori put a hand to her forehead, resisting the urge to devolve into a pile of giggling ecstasy. His mother – Mari Katsuragi – basically gave her blessing to the young librarian. She finally had someone in her corner that wouldn't turn on her, and out of all the people in the world, the person supporting her was the woman who gave Keima everything.

Shiori couldn't believe her luck!

Even if that was all Shiori gained that morning, she would have walked out of _Café Grandpa_ with a smile on her face. That wasn't all, though. She had managed to check off the first requirement of _How to Make Him Fall for You in a Fortnight_. Ah, she could remember it vividly. Closing her eyes, she could picture the way he brought a piece of the omurice to his mouth, and the way he gave just the tiniest nod of approval at her labor of love was incredibly adorable to the librarian. Oh how the bookworm longed to see him enjoy her breakfast every single morning.

Still, it wasn't good to be too hung up on her single victory. She was only a fourteenth of the way there, so she had a long way to go.

Reaching over to the end table next to her queen-sized bed, she swapped out her history book for the book that would hopefully lead her to victory. Feeling Nike's blessing, Shiori cracked open the book and flipped to the second section, anxious to find out what the next step to Keima's heart was.

 **DAY 2: Know More About Him**

"Makes sense," Shiori muttered to herself, reading on. The chapter detailed how knowledge of the… "parameters" of the man she was to woo. Apparently, that technical term stood for the various vital statistics, important relationships, and other miscellaneous information about the loved one that might help out the cause.

Shiori concluded, "So this is a reconnaissance day." She'd be able to get ahold of his vitals rather easily thanks to her friendship with council member Fujidera, and she had recently met one of the most important people in Keima's life and probably knew most of the other girls the anti-social nerd had contact with, so the young girl felt she had that base covered. It was the next statement that had her a little nervous.

"'Find out what kind of girl he's into! Make sure to check in with the rumor mill.' That doesn't sound fun," Shiori read aloud, feeling her stomach drop. Socializing wasn't really her strong suit, and while she was growing more and more comfortable in her crush's presence, she still didn't have the ovaries to straight up ask him what his type was. Only a few of the romance novels in her house had that kind of scenario, and all three of those took place in a different setting, so she wasn't getting any help from that department.

If she couldn't ask him directly, she'd have to keep her ears peeled for rumors, even though most of the rumors about the boy she heard about so far were, to be honest, extremely derogatory. No, he did _not_ cheat in class to get the grades he got. No, he did _not_ perv around with Ayumi when they were alone together. No, he did _not_ lure her into a locked and isolated library just to kiss her!

…Wait, that last one was fairly accurate.

Still, she felt that his intentions were in the right place back then, and she didn't have to justify her love for Keima to herself of all people. Even so, she still never knew why he had kissed her that day, and the one time she asked, all alone with him in a classroom, he refused to answer.

Maybe tomorrow was the time to ask again.

* * *

Things had been going well for Ayumi recently. She had become friends with Keima, and thanks to that, she was able to pass Nikaidou's test, pulling her grades into the green. That led to the team finally being able to give her the spot on Team A for the upcoming meet, which she had been training for years to be able to participate in. Heck, she just finished a damn good meal too. All things considered, the runner should be feeling pretty satisfied right now.

Then why could she only feel ticked off at the sight in front of her?

"Faster, Otamega," Chihiro spat as she took another bite of the pork bun in her hand. Right next to her on the picnic blanket was the nerd of the hour, who was absentmindedly fanning her with his right hand while playing his PFP with the other. For some reason, Ayumi found their proximity annoying, to say the least, even though she knew they hated each other's guts. "Or else you lose your PFP privileges when I'm around."

"Don't even try," Keima coldly declared, though the confidence in his stance was slightly diminished by the fact that he hastened his fanning. He looked more fatigued than Ayumi would have suspected, even if he was as fit as someone from a home for the aged. Then, she noticed something; his eyes glanced at the food in Chihiro's hand every so often before eventually returning to his game.

"Keima," Ayumi called out, putting away the empty bento box into her bag, "you haven't eaten yet, have you?"

The grumble of his stomach spoke volumes. The runner grimaced, staring at the bag she placed her empty bento box into. This could have been the perfect time to, y'know, flirt a bit: bring her used chopsticks to his lips, eat the rice grains stuck on them, that sort of junk she had read in some of Chihiro's magazines. Still, even pushing aside her desire to flirt when club activities weren't taking up her time, she felt bad for her friend. She knew how it felt to run on zero fuel – after all, that was why she had a secret stash of emergency calories… that she had already burned through. She cursed the crappy timing. If he had only missed his food on a gym day instead of a training day, then she would have had the emergency stash resupplied. His luck seemed to have forsaken him. Maybe this was why he cursed that… _Truth_ thing that he always referenced. She continued, "What happened? You usually have enough money to get yakisoba bread."

"Kosaka happened," Keima said, tossing another glance at the half-eaten pork bun in the magazine-lover's hand. Ayumi saw the corner of Chihiro's mouth twitch a little. She guessed the girl wasn't aware of Keima's monetary situation.

"Wow, you're out of money already?" Miyako pointed out. "That's surprisingly irresponsible of you."

"As long as I'm full in my games, I'm fine," Keima argued, only to be met by a pair of chopsticks dangling a piece of scrambled egg in front of him.

"I don't get your game jargon, but you still have to eat something," Miyako offered, holding up some food for the nerd. The three others in her company raised their eyebrows.

As Keima begrudgingly chomped down on the offering, Ayumi felt worried. While she doubted that Miyako _like_ -liked him, the fact that she was growing comfortable enough in his presence that she would willingly feed him if he needed it was cause for alarm, especially since Ayumi knew she had at least one other person to compete with on that front _and_ that training was going to be eating into her Keima-time significantly. Maybe she should compensate for quantity with quality, just like what Ms. Nikaidou told her a while back.

Still, if only she was the only one gunning for the marginalized nerd. Oh, she could only hope that _Miyako_ of all people wasn't going to be added to _the list_ anytime soon.

Chihiro, a questioning look on her face, asked, "That reminds me. Just who was that girl we met yesterday?"

Ayumi's scowl, only barely noticeable before, grew crystal clear to the rest of her friends, and she could tell that it disturbed them to a certain degree. Taking a deep breath, she schooled her features, lest she blow up in Keima's face.

"An acquaintance," Keima said, looking disinterested as always when it came to day-to-day conversations. Still, Ayumi couldn't help but feel like he was hiding something despite the fact that his face betrayed no lies.

"Hm, was she the one you 'kissed'?" Chihiro innocently followed up, making air quotes out of obvious jest. Two of the three in her company didn't react as if it were, however; Keima's features flushed slightly and Ayumi's darkened significantly. The latter latched onto the former's ear, dragging him close enough to whisper to without risking being overheard. "Haha, as If _that_ actually happened."

"I thought this Shiori thing was a 'mistake', Keima," the runner whispered into his ear, her grin turning feral when she felt him shiver against her. He used to always be in control, always be a step ahead in their relationship. While that calm confidence was part of what made her fall for him in the first place, she would be lying if she said she didn't relish the fleeting moments when _she_ was the one on top. "Are you hiding something from me?"

"She's not Shiori. She has pink hair. You can even ask Chihiro; our stories will corroborate," Keima replied, trying to pull away. He hoped that she didn't find out about his weakness to physical proximity, otherwise only god would know how much she'd abuse it. Unfortunately for him, Ayumi seemed to have more questions, since her iron grip on his earlobe was still present.

"A name please, _sweetie_ ," Ayumi spat sickeningly sweetly.

" _Honey_ , you sound like a jealous girlfriend."

"I know."

Keima gulped. She was being surprisingly forward. Normally, that "jealous girlfriend" remark would have embarrassed enough to force her off his back. Her persistence seemed to have leveled up over the past 36 hours. He'd have to backpedal and readjust his mental parameters of her, so all he could hope for…

The door to the rooftop opened, a long-haired martial artist appearing.

 _…was a surprise distraction._

The Real finally cooperated with him. He didn't know whether to feel grateful or worried.

"Keima," Kusunoki started, walking up to the four. At the sight of the warrior, Ayumi let go of Keima's ear, allowing him to assuage his sore lobe. "Come with me."

Keima quickly rose, putting away the fan he used to minister to Chihiro as he gave a nod of farewell to the three classmates of his. It wasn't much, but it was leagues above the expressions he had before Ayumi dragged him into her circle of friends. "Sure. Is this about the club?"

"Yes. I've asked the others, and they're all fine with meeting right now instead of during club hours. You still haven't given me a reason as to why, however."

"It's just the first session anyway," Keima deflected. "It'll take ten minutes tops."

"Are you hiding something from me?" The martial artist questioned, sending the nerd a cold glance. Keima felt the hairs on the back of his neck jump up. Even though she stopped putting him through walls, he still disliked getting on her bad side, especially since he had a fragile device in his hands at the moment. After all, he didn't want to risk any damage to his baby while he didn't have the funds to repair it.

"Well, it was something I was going to bring up after the meeting, but I guess I can ask you now," Keima admitted. "Hm, your intuition is impressive."

"It's a sixth sense honed through battle," the martial artist supplied, surprising the God of Conquests. She didn't seem the type to give away her trade secrets unless it was to her disciples, though Keima supposed he technically counted as one since he was the secretary of her Martial Arts Club. "I can sense people up to a hundred meters away, and if I'm familiar with them, their intentions are mine to peruse as well."

Keima grit his teeth. Kusunoki basically admitted that she was becoming fond of him. Converting that to game-speak, that meant that he had triggered a flag that landed him on her route, though it has yet to be said that she's a heroine. Only time would tell. While the odds were likely that none of the… _prospects_ were actual heroines instead of fleshed out side-characters, if they all turned out to be heroines

Knowing that Kusunoki could sense his frustration, Keima schooled his features, instead taking on an inquisitive look. "That's how you knew Shiori and I were right outside the dojo that day with the dehydrated cat, and-"

"-It's also how I knew you were following Ayasaki and me, yes," Kusunoki confirmed. Keima filed that away for future use, though he doubted he would have to stalk Kusunoki anytime soon. "Anyway, we're digressing. What do you require of me?"

"I need access to the pools. I'm sure the students handling the access to the school facilities gave you one key of everything just in case out of, to put it bluntly, fear. They likely didn't want to face you in case you were frustrated and wanted to blow off some steam by taking a swim or swinging a shinai."

"I suspected as much." Kusunoki's features softened, her straight lips curling into a frown. "Well, that brings me to what I'd like to ask of you in return for access to the pool."

Keima's eyebrow raised. While the martial artist's presence alone was no longer unaccommodating, there were still a few things he didn't want to do for her. Exhibit A: any form of exercise. "Go on."

"I'd like another… _session_ with you. There's something I still want to try."

* * *

The pool wasn't a place that Keima frequented very often. He wasn't a very active person, for one, so he rarely swam. If he needed a place to cool off, almost every building was air-conditioned, and the roofs were breezy enough. Even if the pool qualified for both of those things, he wouldn't risk going near the 2,500 cubic meters of water; his PFP wasn't rated IPX8, after all.

He had to admit, the pool area looked well maintained, from what he could tell from his limited knowledge. Long metal bleachers flanked the Olympic-sized pool on its right side, while on its left were the areas designated for changing. Below said pool was a smaller wading pool around 1.3 meters deep: probably where the swim club tossed in the members whom had yet to learn how to swim. He's acknowledge the place as a good facility for avid swimmers, but he wouldn't risk his devices by going anywhere near the pools if he could avoid it.

Well, his beloved gadget was safe and sound in the bag he stowed in the locker room. All he had on him right now was his normal specs, just a pair of swimming trunks that reached his knees and a watch that _was_ rated for water resistance. The latter would only get totaled if he tossed it into the competition pool.

"I'm ready Keima," he heard someone say from right behind him. He whipped around and backed up to give himself some room only to see a sight he was sure many boys his age would kill to see up close in person. Just like he predicted, the production staff had the young idol wear a frilled two-piece bikini. For some reason, she had tucked her glasses into the waistband holding her bikini bottom to her hip, and he couldn't help but notice that her halterneck top opened from the front: a little scandalous for someone who was apparently a throwback to the "pure idol" days.

What was on his mind wasn't the bikini, however. She'd get totaled if he tossed her into the competition pool too. He was slightly tempted to do it, seeing as it would get her off his back permanently, but decided against it, especially since he could see all the bad ends that would come out of it.

"Right," said Keima, clearing his head of any unnecessary thoughts. "Let's get started."

Keima was surprised. Kanon was a quick learner. For someone so scared to perform on stagenear deep water, she had little trouble wading around in the shallow pool, growing comfortable chin-deep in the slog and having a few water-treading motions slammed into her muscle memory. After the 90 minutes he felt they had before someone would walk in on them, he was confident that she'd be seaworthy after two more sessions.

It was a little unfortunate for the Capturing God and his client, then, that someone _had_ seen the two.

* * *

"I'm exhausted," Keima said, walking through the shopping center. He checked his watch. 17 'o clock. Normally, he'd be accompanied by Ayumi, walking her to the station since he lived near it anyway. Well, after learning about her new role in her club, her absence was to be expected. While the sudden loss was infinitesimally discomforting, he had to admit it was a relief to not get pressured by the potential heroine. The lighting the sunset gave her was a little too picturesque for his liking.

The shopping center that usually served as the backdrop for the afterschool events they had was, on the other hand, rather mundane. Like his mom's Café Grandpa, the center was filled with a wide variety of stores, ranging from fabric shops to beef bowl joints.

He looked at the bakery next to him. It wasn't a franchised behemoth of a bakery by any means; it was just a simple place for the locals to buy cheap bread.. Although it seemed like a decent place, it seemed to be having a bit of trouble. Plastered onto one of the windows peeking into the place was a notice, asking for a part-timer with basic experience with circuitry. Keima grimaced. It reminded him that he was absolutely drained of cash.

Maybe he should take it. He had some knowledge when it came to tweaking with the PFP that Kanon broke. Heck, he could bring the unmodded PFP he had in his hands and give the owner a live demo and land the job. While being able to feed himself and have more after school events was nice and all, the money he'd get would also let him buy more games, which was extremely tempting to the nerd.

On the other hand, working an extra 16 hours or so a week was going to drastically cut into his gaming time, especially since those pseudo-heroines were already taking up a huge chunk of his day light as it was.

…Then again, Ayumi would kill him if he didn't treat her after her track meet.

Keima walked into the establishment. Just like the outside, the bakery had little extravagance to betray. It was a small place, walls lined with simple baked goods that wouldn't go bad too quickly. Behind the glass casing next to the cashier were the more delicate pastries that needed a certain temperature in order to remain pristine. The light illuminating said baked goods was flickering. This was probably the thing that the store owner wanted maintained.

"How may I help you?"

Keima's attention was pulled from the goods to the person selling the goods. She was a poised teenaged girl his age. Short. The apron that she had over the Mai-High uniform was a little short on her. He never thought he'd meet someone shorter than Shiori in high school, but here she was. Blond. She had red hair accessories that kept her bangs from blinding her and her pigtails from losing their shape. Said pigtails were of different lengths for some reason. Maybe she had a hard time measuring it out, though Keima wouldn't have been able to say exactly why. He had a few guesses, though he kept them to himself, saying, "Ah, yes. I'd like to speak to the manager about the part-time position advertised outside."

"Oh." She didn't seem very happy to see him. Well, she _was_ from Mai-High, and there were no runners or martial artists here to defend his good name. He wondered just what he heard from the rumor mill. Was it the rumor that he had blackmailed the teachers to allow him to play games during class? That one was a popular one. Well, by the look of barely hidden disgust on her face, Keima could tell he was far from welcomed. "Well, she's out at the moment, and-"

"What do you mean, dearie?" From the backdoor came a woman that looked to be in her early forties. She was blonde, just like the girl. She was poised, just like the girl. It was unmistakable; they were mother and daughter. Their eyes met. "Hello, my name is Rin Aoyama. You're here to apply for the position, right?"

Keima started to introduce himself. "Yes-"

"Mother, I'm not fond of this man," the shorter blond whispered, though not quietly enough for Keima to be unable to hear her. "His reputation at school is far from untarnished."

Mrs. Aoyama wasn't very good at whispering either. "Unless this reputation of his interferes with his work, then it should be fine. We just got this place after all, Mio. It's much cheaper to have a part timer who can solve the minor problems and work around the subpar equipment the bakery came with than to call up an electrician whenever we experience problems."

"But he's known for prioritizing his video games over more important things, even doing so in class," argued Mio, and Keima had to admit that she was right, to a certain degree. After all, he could thank Nikaido for the red cheek she gave him earlier when she grew tired of his gaming gaggling. Still, it didn't stop him from having stellar grades.

"That won't be a problem, Mrs. Aoyama," Keima interjected, a bright, disarming, _fake_ smile plastered onto his cute little mug. He hoped to be charming enough to the older woman that he'd be accepted on the spot. While he wasn't too fond of the idea of working, if he was going to try to land the job, he might as well try his best to land it. "While I _do_ play games during class, I'm still the highest ranked among the 2nd year students. Games shouldn't distract me from my work here."

"Ah, my apologies for having you overhear that…"

"Keima Katsuragi."

"Keima," Mrs. Aoyama started, walking over to the door and flipping the sign hanging on it from "open" to "closed," "Do you mind if we talk here instead of the office? I wasn't expecting a taker so soon, so it's a slight mess back there."

"Not at all, Mrs. Aoyama."

"So, what are your qualifications?"

"Well, if you have a soldering iron on you right now," said Keima, looking at the flickering light trying its best to shine light on the pastries below it, "I can see if I can fix it."

Rin Aoyama's grin grew as her daughter's scowl followed suit.

Well, his stay at the Aoyama's bakery was going to be interesting, to say the least.

* * *

 **Before you go too crazy with your reactions to Mio's new circumstances, please hear me out. Hit up my profile for the AN to this chapter. Stay fresh.**


	14. Enter Minami Ikoma

_Connection 14: Enter Minami Ikoma_

* * *

Walking home from the Aoyama's bakery, Keima didn't expect yet _another_ event to occur. However, he probably should have. After all, most games bombard the player with events until a route is fully chosen, and as far as the Otoshigami was concerned, there were no routes to enter nor Heroines to save… though there were signs of a few.

Still, there were too many events for Keima's liking. Trying not to get killed by Ayumi, thinking of where to bring Kusunoki, getting Kanon seaworthy – it was getting a bit too hard to manage, especially since he had to deal with Real parameters, like _calories_ and _hygiene_. Making the player's stats matter shouldn't be a part of a game: another reason why Reality is a badly designed game. It definitely wasn't recommended for newcomers to the genre.

Oh well, Keima has played bad games before, so he'd smile – cynically – and bear it.

Swinging open the door to Café Grampa, he was met by the sight of Shiori of all people sitting at the table nearest to the door. In her hands was a book with a blank blue cover, and she was so invested in it that she hadn't noticed him yet. Maybe he could sneak past this obvious flag.

The God of Conquests took a deep breath and schooled his features, hoping to become inconspicuous. He walked – not too fast, not too slow – towards the back, only making eye contact with his PFP. With any luck, he'd be able to make it to the "employee's only" staircase and escape to his room unnoticed.

Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. His eyes trailed up the hand gently restraining him. His mother was giving him a bright smile. "Keima, you have a guest. Front of the house, table 1."

"Oh, really? Who is it?" Crap. No sneaking away for him. He forgot his mother could see through his stealth mode.

"Shiori, dearie," Mari said, her smile only growing. "Unless you have other friends you haven't told me about. Oh my, is my son slowly getting popular?"

"Yeah yeah, Mom. I'll just put this away," the boy relented, gesturing to his bag. He was about to leave, but he was stopped by an outstretched hand.

"Leave that to me, sweetie." She snatched the bag and his PFP out of his grasp. Spinning him around, she swung her hip, giving her son a gentle shove towards the librarian. "Go on and have lots of 'fun' with Shiori!"

Grumbling, Keima shoved his hands in his pockets, making his way towards the girl. Now that he wasn't trying to be sneaky, she noticed him. Her head whipped around to face him, and he was almost shocked to a standstill from the look she shot his way.

Unbridled determination.

Sitting down, his appearance only grew more inquisitive. Where had she gotten this passion? She was supposed to keep it locked up in her head; even if the eyes were the windows to the soul, her desire wasn't supposed to show this intensely. He replayed the past few events in his head. She fed him good food. She helped out with the cat. She bore witness to Kanon's rampage.

… _Where was the build up?_ Was Reality really pulling out another invisible flag with him?

Before Keima could delve too deeply into his own thoughts, his attention was called by the girl sitting in front of him. "Katsuragi, we… we need to talk."

"Right." Keima put his elbows on the table, propping up his chin on his hands. He wondered if his more aggressive posture would cow the girl. Unlike a certain runner, the librarian's fire petered slightly, but it wasn't put out.

He saw her take a breath and steel herself. "Why did you kiss me that day?"

Keima froze. That was out of nowhere. He would have expected something about another bento, or maybe even something about Kanon: not that accursed kiss. Then again, this whole event was unexpected. "W-what?"

She broke eye contact. "In the library. The kiss you s-stole from me."

Keima gulped. Following Shiori's lead, he looked to the side. "I-I'm sorry for playing with your feelings, Shiori. I just did it out of impulse. If it makes you feel any better, it was my first kiss."

"N-no fair, it was mine too." Keima turned back to face the girl. Her face looked composed enough, but he could see the way her lips were tightly pursed, the way her fingers rapped on the hard cover of the book in front of her. She had probably known he didn't kiss her out of love for a while, but Keima could guess that it hurt just hearing it.

Eerie silence, with just the sound of other customers fumbling around with their silverware piercing it. The tension between the two was oppressively palpable; Keima could stick a fork in the pressure that was pushing down on his chest. It was only alleviated when Shiori, looking at the closed book in her hand, asked, "Well then, i-is there anyone you like right now?"

Slowly getting accustomed to the incessant non-sequiturs, Keima replied, "No."

He saw her nod, though he could have sworn she had a small grin on her face. "Um, then what's your 'type'?"

"2D girls," the nerd said, trying to follow her train of thought. If he didn't know better, he would have thought Shiori was taking notes from Chihiro's magazines. Still, it showed bright as day that she had a crush on him, and if her budding confidence was any sign, the Capturing God could ignore it no longer. He would have to put a stop to it. He had a feeling she'd handle it well, judging by her newfound agency, and he could see the ending. It would sting, especially since this was the first love of a meek librarian, but she'd recover, maybe write a book about the kiss she had with a boy who had never loved her. Keima started, "I'm going to be blunt; I don't think we should go-"

"W-wait, before that," Shiori interjected, desperation in her eyes, "can we meet up after school tomorrow? There's this book I'd like to buy."

He looked at her, and he couldn't help but be filled with pity. Sure, it was Reality and all, but seeing the girl trying to piece her heart together after he almost cut it in two was heart wrenching. "Oh, Shiori-"

"B-but you owe me though," Shiori argued, her voice betraying all of the pain in her tiny frame. It was starting to hurt to watch. Keima took a look around, not to avoid her gaze, he defended to himself, but to check to see if they were causing a scene in his family's business. Yep, it definitely wasn't to avoid seeing the pain in the poor girl's expression.

Gulping back the frog that was forming in his throat, Keima relented, "Alright. This will be the last time-"

"It won't." The sudden steel in her voice forced Keima to turn back towards the girl. "I'll make sure of it."

He suddenly felt his hands enveloped by hers. They were small. They were warm. They were trembling.

She was quite nervous.

Keima had to admit that he was nervous too.

Why?

"I-I promise you," Shiori declared, her hold on his hands getting tighter and tighter, "I'm going to win your heart. Before Ayumi, before Kanon, before any other girl."

She sealed her promise with a kiss.

* * *

Munching on her tuna roll, Minami Ikoma was a little distracted. Thoughts of pink idols and mystery voices were swimming in her mind.

 _Minami was only supposed to have swimming on her mind, not have other thoughts swim in it…_

… _This term was supposed to be her year of redemption. Sure, she started her last year in junior high on a bitter note with being the third sub at the one and only summer swim meet after all, and her friends went and focused their attention on other clubs, but she was determined to make the rest of her senior year a good one, even without Akko and Saito by her side._

 _She had to make it._

 _While the A-team was hitting the gym area on the third floor, she had been getting ready to swim on the fourth. Heck, she would have jumped into the pool had it not been for a certain pink haired girl who had almost spotted her when the latter entered the changing area._

 _Minami couldn't help but think of how pretty Kanon Nakagawa was. While her dad had written her off as someone more glamorous on TV than anyone could possibly be in person, seeing the real deal had Minami positively star-struck. She was unable to peel her eyes off the idol from behind the shower curtain Minami was using to hide herself, and she was stunned. Her face complexion was immaculate, and that fair skin tone extended to the rest of her lithe frame. Her toned body looked chiseled from marble, which was unfair since Minami worked out in a pool for fourteen hours a week and she was merely just as thin. The thing she was most jealous of was the way her hair cascaded down to her shoulder when she removed her signature ribbon. Compared to her stubborn eggs nest, Kanon's was absolutely flowing._

 _Should she get a picture? Maybe a signature?_

 _Well, Kanon would probably not appreciate her jumping the idol while she was in the middle of changing, so it would probably be best to ambush her outside of the changing room instead._

" _I think it's just me in here," Kanon suddenly shouted out._

" _Good." The reply was from a male voice, calm and to-the-point. "It would have been troublesome if someone had spotted you because of your subpar disguise."_

" _Heh, can you help me out with_ that _problem after this one then?" Kanon asked, leaving her bag on the locker room floor as she walked away. Minami allowed herself to breathe again. An idol's aura was incredibly pressuring, even if said idol's attention wasn't on her._

 _Now that the pinkette was gone, Minami slid aside the curtain, heaving in a deep breath. Slowly, the swimsuit clad freshman made her way to the entrance of the changing room and did her best to sneak a peek at the pool area without exposing herself. She saw Kanon in close proximity with a bespectacled brunette with a lanky build, and after they tossed their spectacles aside, Minami bore witness to the latter teaching the former basic water treading techniques._

 _Did that mean Kanon didn't know how to swim? And just who was that guy? He wasn't a fellow celeb, that was for sure. Maybe he was a staff member… but then they would just get a professional. He was a high school student for sure, probably her same year level, so that wasn't the case. Was he a secret lover or something?_

" _Alright, Kanon. We're done here. We'll have session two same time on Monday."_

 _Just who was that man?_

"Earth to Minami! Geez, you seem out of it. Heh, is it a guy?" Minami was shook from her reverie by her friends. They were eating lunch on one of the benches surrounding the track-and-field oval. To her side was Akko, who was giving her a large grin that betrayed her intent to mess with the poor Ikoma. She pouted. It seemed like the people that tended to gravitate towards her were the type that _loved_ to tease. Oh well, it was always light-hearted jabs, so Minami could just let the insults slide off her back.

At least the frequency had lessened a tad since first trimester. Akko and Saito weren't participating as much in the swim club anymore, so once it was club time, Minami was safe since Akko was too busy doing volunteer work, while Saito

"Sorry guys," the girl huffed, jogging to the bench the others were seated on. She looked winded, struggling to catch her breath. "Some of the senpais from senior high dropped by to watch us train, so _kaichou_ had us run some extra relays."

Akko looked sympathetic. "Mou, sounds difficult."

"It's okay. At least I have a chance to actually compete this time," Saito said, fanning herself as sweat poured down her face. She'd have to change out of her doused gym shirt before any cuties spotted her worse for wear. "Plus, one of the senpais was super cool! What was her name again? Was it Taka-"

"Wait, Minami's spacing out again," Akko interjected, waving a hand in front of the shorter girl. She seemed to be in a daze, as if staring past the duo next to her. Minami tended to be quite a grounded person compared to her and Saito, so to see her so in the clouds was incredibly entertaining. By the grin on Saito's face, Akko could tell she was enjoying the show just as much. "Heh, maybe there is a guy on her mind.

"Minami," Akko pressed, prodding the shoulder of the listless swimmer. With a jolt, Minami was brought back, trying her best to blink her thoughts out of her eyes. "What's up?"

' _Mm, Kanon probably won't appreciate me spilling the beans about her secret relationship with that guy, so I'm not gonna mention her name at all,'_ Minami concluded, trying her best to satiate her friends' curiosity without screwing anyone over. _As for 'that guy,' just who was he? He seemed so calm, even though he had been standing next to a literal superstar, and while he wasn't that fast, his breast stroke was clean. I… I want to know more about him.'_

Taking a serious tone, Minami looked at her two friends and asked, "Hey, can I look at those Mai-High Knighthood files? I want to learn about someone: a guy with glasses."

* * *

"Keep up the good work, Keima," Rin said, watching the Capturing God polish the pastry display case to a sheen. Looking at the boy, he seemed rather content, a soft smile on his face as he did his menial work. Heck, if it weren't for her daughter's rumor mongering, she wouldn't have known about any of Keima Katsuragi's… more unsavory traits. Rin didn't really care whether or not his zeal came from a desire to please her or a genuine like for the job. The work the part-timer put in was good, and the fact that he had a unique skillset when needed was a boon as well, so Rin found no reason to complain.

As she returned to the backroom to dive into the sea of paperwork she had waiting for her on her desk, Keima's face cooled into a neutral expression. While it was true that he didn't _hate_ his job – it was quite similar to what his mom would make him do during Sunday rush-hours, after all – he didn't really like it much either, mostly since he couldn't slack off with his PFP during almost nonexistent downtime. Mio would always have him do something, whether it be taking inventory, cleaning the store, buying ingredients, and other time-consuming tasks. Every time she made him do something, she seemed to really relish it, like a sadistic taskmaster working her poor, lowly slave.

Oh well, at least he got paid.

Looking at the blonde girl, who was writing something down in that little notepad of hers, he couldn't help but thing she had all the makings of an _ojousama_ : blonde hair, yellow pigtails, proud personality, even an "ohohoho" he heard once when she made him take out the trash for the first time. Conversely, she was far from affluent. While they _did_ own a debtless store that wasn't about to go under, business was far from booming, and from what he could piece together from the money in the cash register and the things he overheard from Rin's office, it would take a while for her to have enough money to comfortable save up for her retirement.

So where did Mio get those personality traits? Maybe from her father, though since Keima's seen neither hide nor tail from him. While it was possible that the Aoyama patriarch was simply working abroad like Keima's dad Keiichi, from the distant look Mio sometimes had on her when she didn't think he was looking, Keima could tell Mr. Aoyama was sadly gone.

Though Keima was surprised at the amount of attention he paid to the blonde. She was from the Real world, and aside from being a video game archetype, she didn't seem to be a Heroine, so why did he care so much? He was supposed to be above matters of Reality, so to suddenly start paying attention to things he claimed to be beneath him was concerning, to say the least. Even though he was trying to find aspects of heroines in some of the people around him, were they also trying to find something "redeemable" out of him? He'd have to think that over.

"Oi, stop staring at me," the pigtailed daughter of the owner ordered, pointing an accusatory finger at the nerd and derailing his train of thought. "Work on wiping the windows."

"Yes, Ma'am." Looking at his handiwork, he felt a slight tinge of contentment. The glass protecting the pastries from the outside world was polished to perfection. Heck, Keima could even see his own reflection in it…

…and a reflection of someone he knew.

Turning around, the Capturing God saw that his suspicion proved to be true. On the other side of the street was Chihiro, who was strolling through the shopping district at a leisurely pace. The problem was she was about to cross the street, which would put her right in front of the store. While Keima didn't think she was cruel enough to drag him away from his part time job, he had a feeling that if she spotted him, then she'd totally wait for his shift to end so she could ambush him with crap she couldn't be bothered to do herself.

Keima schooled his features in an effort to become inconspicuous. While his mom was able to see through that façade, it had worked on Shiori who, judging by the earlier event at the bookstore, payed attention to him quite a lot and could easily pick him out from a crowd, so if it worked on her, it _should_ work on Chihiro.

As the bell attached to the top of the door rang, signaling that someone entered the store, Keima poured his all into polishing the outside window, hoping that the 2-B student wouldn't look too hard in his direction.

"Hi, can I have a pork bun?" Keima could hear from behind him. So far so good, though he couldn't shake the feeling that things were about to go downhill.

"Sure. They're on the rack over there. Katsuragi," he gulped "-move. You're blocking the buns."

" _Katsuragi_?" Hearing feet shuffling behind him, Keima turned around, coming face to face with the girl he really wanted to avoid. So much for remaining inconspicuous. She had a smirk on her face, as if just the mere thought of him doing manual labor gave her a dopamine rush. Annoying. "Wow, you're working part time?"

"Yes," Keima replied, wiping the sweat off his forehead. Hopefully, if he kept his responses short and boring, she'd leave him alone. Her look became inquisitive, bringing a finger to the corner of her lips.

"That's surprising," the girl commented. "You don't seem like the type to want to work. Are you already out of money?"

She was met by silence, broken by the sound of another customer shuffling into the bakery. Only a single raised brow betrayed the underlying emotions on the nerd's face. Wait, was he accusing _her_ of draining his wallet? He had only been her slave for a few days! Sure, when they had stalk- _followed_ Yuuta and Kusunoki, she had leeched some food off of him, and the day after, she made him spot her for lunch, but it was all relatively cheap food, so it shouldn't have burned the bank. She had assumed that he was rolling in the dough; after all, rumors say that he buys every single game on release, and how could someone pull that off without a lot of change to swing around?

Still, she didn't mean any harm. She wanted him to groan a bit, sure, but she didn't want to hurt his health in any way. Chihiro didn't think she was cruel, but the way the boy looked at her made her feel like she had just kicked a puppy, not drag around a perverted weirdo. Guilt weighed the girl down. Her smile faded, a guilty flat line replacing it.

Chihiro leaned in, voice as soft as a feather. "It was me, huh? I'm the reason why you didn't eat on Friday."

"Partially." Keima whispered back, bringing up his rag to continue doing his menial work. "I was low on money by the time Thursday rolled around. I thought I was going to make it to Saturday, but your food binges were the final nail in the coffin."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Chihiro's hushed tone betrayed a surprising amount of concern. He thought she would have laughed it off.

"I'm surprised you care."

"H-hey, don't word it _that_ way," Chihiro protested, picking up a tray next to the rack of bread. "I may not want you to get hurt, but I don't like you."

"Yes yes, I understand," Keima replied, pulling away from the window pane he had been working on. He saw pursed lips and a pensive look on the face of the person who, as she put it, didn't like him. It was the most thoughtfulness he had seen on the girl's face since he first met her. The normally aloof girl who seemed to go with the flow with everything, reduced to a contemplative stare… it was interesting, to say the least. Maybe she wasn't a one-dimensional background character after all.

Before he could walk away behind the counter, Chihiro stopped him. "Hey, when do you get off from work?"

"Eight," the boy said, turning around to face the girl.

"Alright. I'm treating you to dinner."

* * *

"Anyway," continued Chihiro, "I'm sorry for starving you."

Despite nodding, Keima Katsuragi was confused. Even with the innumerable amount of knowledge he accrued from the tens of thousands of games he's played, the Capturing God was still surprised by the turn of events. After all…

…why would a side-character like Chihiro want to have an event with him?

"Hmm," the girl in question hummed, seemingly unaware of the inner turmoil the prepubescent boy in front of her was experiencing as she perused the menu of the family restaurant they were in. It was a Saizeriya, a restaurant chain popular for its incredibly budget friendly Japanese take on Italian classics. The focus on not breaking the bank was to be expected, since she _was_ going to take care of the bill. "The meat doria looks nice, but _hamburg steak_ though…"

"Katsuragi," Chihiro called out, looking across the table at her unlikely companion, "What are you going to get?"

Now she was trying to drag him into small talk? He thought she was just going to keep interaction with him to a minimum, but Saturday was proving to be host to a Chihiro paradigm shift. He could picture the dialogue boxes appearing in front of him based off of his thousands of hours of visual novel experience, which was astonishing since out of all the interactions Reality forced him into since junior year started, a Chihiro interaction would have been the least likely to be regarded as an actual _Event_ for a route that Keima didn't really see… "Carbonara."

"Mou, pasta sounds nice, but I've eaten too many carbs today. Ah, screw it. I'll just get salad," Chihiro concluded the small talk, putting down the menu and raising her hand to flag a server. She took their orders and left, leaving the two teens to twiddle thumbs, waiting for their entrees to arrive in an awkward silence.

"S-so…" the boy in front of her suddenly spoke up, not making eye contact, "how's your thing with Ayasaki?"

Chihiro had to raise an eyebrow at that. She would have thought he hated the conversing in general, especially with someone he had a distaste for. Not following up would have kept the awkward silence for the rest of the dinner, something she had thought was perfectly fine in his book.

Was Keima actually socially savvy underneath all that geek? Probably not; he had replaced the awkward silence with an awkward conversation. It was clear that his discomfort around her leaked into his normally calm tone, and a small part in the back of Chihiro's head told her to make fun of him for it.

It was hushed by another part of her brain.

Ayumi would want the two of them to get along, it said.

Besides, a willing slave is better than a reluctant one, right? "I don't know. I have his number, but I don't really feel like hitting him up. He has the vibe of… y'know-"

"A sis-con?"

"Yep," Chihiro let out a giggle as Keima took an untroubled sip of the glass of water in front of him. The teenaged girl felt the atmosphere at the table lighten up a bit. It was kind of hilarious that even anti-social people could pick up on Yuuta's less… presentable side. "It's so sad. His looks were a ten out of ten. He was part of a band too."

Keima saw a glint in her eye: something he had never seen on a background character before. Subconsciously, he latched onto it, "A band, huh? Are you into that kind of stuff?"

Feeling at ease around Keima Katsuragi for the first time since her senior high started, she continued, "I play a bit of the guitar, and to be honest, I'd love to learn how to sing and write songs. I don't even know why I'm telling this to _you_ of all people; no one else knows about this silly dream of mine."

Keima's eyebrow rose.

"Oh, I'm not _that_ close with my family, and Miyako would just roast me. Ayumi might take me more seriously, but I don't know. She has poked fun at my singing before when we last went out to karaoke."

"They wouldn't trash your dreams." Faith oozed out of Keima's voice. Where had he gotten that from? Earlier he was struggling to even make eye contact with her when they were talking, so maybe that confidence in his own beliefs on her relationships with others was something he had to build up over the course of the dinner. Well, Chihiro was reluctant to admit it, but Keima had her convinced.

"Yeah, I guess so. Still, I don't want to tell anyone. I want to at least write a song first, though so far I've only managed to compose a verse and a chorus, and I haven't had anyone listen to it," Chihiro said. She then pointed a finger at the boy. "And you better not tell anyone, or I'll kill you."

Keima grit his teeth, but it wasn't because of the half-hearted death threat.

Keima could see it.

The ending.

Sure, the exact chain of events leading up to it wasn't clear, but there wasn't supposed to be anything to see in the first place. She was _Chihiro_ : a classic side character. The girl closest to becoming a heroine in Keima's eyes was Ayumi; side characters were simply there to accentuate them.

So why did Reality give her a route? And more importantly, was he going to pursue it?

Ayumi would want the two of them to get along.

And just as Keima decided what he was going to do: _**Buzz.**_

Keima put down the menu and slipped his hand into his pocket, unearthing his phone. It had been around 24 hours since Kanon last messaged him, which was a first. She was probably too occupied with learning how to swim to start worrying – and bothering Keima – about things she didn't need to concern herself with, which was refreshing.

It seemed like the streak was over. Oh well-

 **Sender: Shiori Shiomiya**

The nerd rubbed the bridge of his nose. That girl was starting to be a little too enthusiastic for his liking just because he let slip a nice comment about the sundress she wore when they were on their little date. He wondered offhandedly if he had accidentally unearthed an unstoppable force when he dragged the librarian out of her shell. Deciding to get it over with, Keima opened the mail.

 **Thanks for going to Concordia with me, Keima.**

Keima quickly tapped out a reply, emphasizing that he went because he owed her. Once that task was out of the way, he looked up, only to see Chihiro with her own brow raised. She pointed out, "Huh, I didn't think you get texts at all. Is that from Ayumi?"

"No." Chihiro could see how stiff he was. He was clamming up. She pursed her lips. She had opened up to him, even if it was just to give him the slightest peek into who Chihiro Kosaka was, yet Keima didn't have the courtesy to do the same, leaving her curiosity famished.

No matter. She would just pry him open. "So who is mailing the great Otoshigami? Was it that girl you kissed?"

 _ **Buzz**_.

It was Shiori again.

 **I'm sorry to impose, but I want to show you something. Please meet me at the station at five in the evening tomorrow, or else I'm going to have to drop by your place and talk to Mari for a bit.**

The nerd shivered. She _had_ bought a horror novel. Maybe she drew inspiration from her new book, since what she typed down chilled Keima to the bone. Keima mentally moved Shiori up the threat list. As he gave his coerced consent, he wondered if Kanon still deserved the number 1 spot when Shiori had a direct line to the most powerful figure in Keima's life.

Chihiro, by comparison, was much easier to deal with. "For someone who doesn't believe I kissed someone, you sure do bring it up a lot."

"Hey, what can I say?" Chihiro defended herself, shrugging her shoulders. "It was a pretty bad lie on your part."

 _ **Buzz**_.

 **Just wondering. Are you on a date right now?**

Okay, Shiori was definitely going to take Kanon's place as the number one girl on his threat list. Did she read something about womanly instincts? Did she call in a favor from Kusunoki and learned about her aura sensing skill?

"No… I'm not," Keima whispered as he typed it out.

This wasn't a date.

He wasn't lying. Not at all.

"…I wouldn't mind listening to your song," Keima confessed, causing astonishment to pop up on Chihiro's face. He was tempted to pick up the jaw she dropped on the floor, but he didn't want to accidentally come off as romantic.

Or did he? He still hadn't decided on what approach to take when it came to handling the girl who had the most animosity towards him.

"A-are you sure?" Chihiro choked out, eyes the size of dinner plates.

"I _am_ your slave, after all," Keima replied, keeping his voice even as the server gave them their food. "Just say the word."

He was growing more and more accustomed to the Real, and Keima wasn't sure if he liked it or not.

* * *

 **Beta Reader: xellos540. Thanks man.**

 **As always, AN can be found on my profile.**


	15. What Comes After

_Connection 15: What Comes After_

* * *

"So…" started Mari, bringing her chopsticks away from her lips, "...the neighbors moved out a few days ago."

It was a family tradition to, regardless of workload, meet together on Sunday mornings and eat and talk together, since usually Keima and his dad had no time to do so on any other day. Mari was usually able to get Keima to the table weekly without too much of a fuss. Prying that goddamn gaming console out of his hands for just one meal in the week so he could focus more on spending time with his mother and father was a whole new matter.

Oh well, as long as he paid attention to the conversation, Mari would take what she could get.

"It's interesting, 'cause apparently, a family of three will be moving in within the week. I wonder who they'll be," she concluded. "Anyway, how has your week been, sweetie?"

Even if he wanted to tell his mom about all the details of his newfound extracurricular activities, he wouldn't know where to start. Listing it off in his head, the number of events in the week alone was staggering. He started off the week PFP-less, naively thinking that he'd be free from his shackles by the end of it. Oh, how wrong he was. From seeing Ayumi's dynamics with her club upperclassmen, to going on the fateful date with Kusunoki, to becoming Kanon's teacher and Chihiro's slave, and uncovering Shiori's more temperamental side – the list of crap he had to deal with that week went on and on.

Heck, it was the last day of the week, and it was still hectic. Kusunoki wanted to go out on another "session" for lunch, and Shiori essentially blackmailed him into having dinner with her. No rest for the weary, he supposed.

"Same as usual."

"Oh really?" From the way Mari said that, Keima could tell that he wasn't going to look forward to the ensuing conversation. "So is hanging out with Shiori an everyday occurrence?"

"Not really."

"Ah, you have no idea how happy I was when I found out that you made a friend at school!" Without warning, Mari's cheer dropped to a cold chill. "Mou, I wonder why you chose to keep that a secret from your dear mother."

"It didn't seem like something that I needed to share," Keima gulped, looking up at the woman making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. His improv seemed to placate her, causing her freezing stare to become reduced to a pout.

Mari huffed, "You need to tell your mom these things, Keima, like just where did you two meet? Shiori wouldn't give me a straight answer, and she's too _adorable_ to press."

Knowing that Mari wouldn't let him deflect, Keima decided to tell her a truncated version of the events, leaving out any hints of romance the two shared during their little protest and forgetting to mention Ayumi's role as the instigator. Still, the Katsuragi matriarch was sharp; she would definitely think something fishy was up since Keima wasn't the type to reach out to those in need. It was better than the alternative, however. Explaining the whole story would only add fuel to Mari's already insatiable desire to matchmake him and Shiori together, and the longer his mom was unaware of the runner's existence, the better.

"So yeah, she's just a friend that I helped out," Keima restated, returning to his game as he put down the empty bowl of rice in his hands.

"I can't help but feel like you're hiding more things from me, but since you're dressed up, I guess you're going out later. I'll let this slide-"

Keima's shoulders relaxed.

"-for now."

* * *

' _Okay, first thing on the list: Kusunoki_ ,' Keima thought internally, wiping off the sweat caused by the high noon sun. He lifted his head a bit in case Kusunoki was close by. Unlike the martial artist, he couldn't sense auras, so he had to rely on his eyes instead. ' _Though why she wanted to start her little "date" here is beyond me. If she wanted to redo the whole thing, we'd be at school. If she just wanted to pick up where we had left off, I should have walked her home from the road I ditched her on.'_

Shaking away those thoughts, he looked at the building in front of him. Uemoto-ya: the place where Keima and Kusunoki had their first meal together. It seemed to be another trend; if Kanon called Concordia "their place", then Uemoto-ya was shaping up to be Kusunoki's, even though unhealthy ramen didn't really mesh well with her athletic lifestyle. It was interesting, since many games also recycle event locations, though that was mostly to mitigate unnecessary expenses. Reality didn't really have that same excuse, so why were they drawn to certain locations? Were they just too lazy to go find other, more suitable establishments? Was it because they liked the place too much? Or maybe it held sentimental value-

"Keima," Kusunoki said from his right, shaking the thoughts out of him by nudging him with the modest handbag she held in her grasp. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting."

"I just got here," Keima fed her his generic response line as he stood up from the bench, slipping his PFP in his pocket. He looked at the girl. It seemed she had more than just the outfit she had on the first date in her closet. She had on a white long-sleeved wrap top over cycling shorts. Only god knows exactly why she brought a pair of those – he hoped she wasn't going to drag him to the local J-Cycle for their pseudo-date – but he was glad that she looked relatively satisfied at her mix of modern appeal and athletic maneuverability. In fact, if he looked closer, there seemed to be conspicuous seams around the sleeves of the top-

"No need to lie, Keima," Kusunoki said, a smirk on her face as she made her way to the restaurant. "You've been waiting for a while now."

Keima grimaced slightly. "Is it that sixth sense kicking in again?"

"No, I saw you sitting on the bench in front of Uemoto-ya from the station around seventeen minutes ago once I exited the station."

"But the station's two kilometers away from here," Keima pointed out, looking down the straight away that led from the station to Uemoto-ya. While there wasn't anything on Keima's side of the road obstructing his view to the station, even with his glasses, he had a hard time making out details of the people scrambling out of the station.

The nerd rubbed the bridge of his nose at how nonchalantly Kusunoki talked about her feats of athleticism she attained without literally breaking a sweat. He crunched the numbers. If her estimate was accurate, it meant not only was her vision at least above average, her walking speed was around seven kilometers an hour. Sure, her vision and her casual walking speed was within human limits, but she was definitely brushing up against them. Heck, those raw stats might even give Ayumi a run for her money.

He stored those parameters for future use, as Kusunoki said, "Enough of that. Let's just go and eat."

Walking into Uemoto-ya and taking a seat, Keima admitted that the noodle shop was just as warm and welcoming as always. If it weren't for that rather terrifyingly sweet experience he had the last time the duo was there and the fact that Kusunoki had already marked it as her territory, he would have maneuvered Kanon towards Uemoto-ya just so that there wouldn't be any surprise flags featuring the idol meeting the librarian. He shuddered just thinking about it.

"If your goal was to 'redo' the 'date,' then why aren't we doing this around dinner time?" Keima asked, managing to shake off the sense of imminent doom.

He had to be grateful, though. If Kusunoki _had_ wanted their rerun to be around dinner time, it would have clashed with Shiori's scheduled dinner date, so he'd have to ask the martial artist to reschedule - it would be almost suicidal to ask favors of Shiori when she had an ace up her sleeve – and hope for no violent reactions. From the events and the propinquity points he _could_ see, Kusunoki wouldn't, but Reality was slowly beating into him that there were things that were outside of the protagonist's control, which was ridiculous by any game's standards. Oh well, he'd just have to deal with it, like enduring a bad game. A _really_ bad game.

"Ah, I have to pick up my sister from the airport later, and if I pick her up in _this_ outfit, she'll tease me for her whole stay. I'll need time to change into my _gi_ ," Kusunoki replied. Keima noticed her cheeks starting to flush. "Besides, if I am to be honest, this date is mostly about what comes after lunch."

The Capturing God didn't like how roundabout the normally straightforward Kusunoki was being. "And that is?"

Before Kusunoki could respond, the cheery server from last time walked up to their table and handed them their menus, greeting, "Welcome back to Uemoto-ya! What would you like to order?"

' _Not the Sumire special, that's for sure,'_ Keima thought. "I'll have the-"

"We'll both have the Sumire Special, please," Kusunoki interjected, sending Keima a familiar steely look. This was non-negotiable, and Keima wasn't sure why. It was probably related to the "main purpose" Kusunoki mentioned earlier, but from the way she blushed a minute or two ago, that "purpose" seemed a bit more intimate than just taking his taste buds out back and shooting them.

Sumire's eyebrows raised out of surprise, though like a professional, she allowed it there for just a moment, "Um, thanks for the order! I'll be back in a bit with today's Sumire Special: Chocolate Cacophony!"

' _Does she even know what "cacophony" means?'_ Keima groaned internally as Sumire walked away to fulfill their orders. Outwardly, the nerd asked, "Why do you do this to me, Kusunoki?"

"I'd like to make this a sort of tradition of ours, whenever we go on this type of outing," the martial artist replied, her calm expression not betraying a single hint of guilt. "Besides, if you hate it so much, I can pay for it."

"I'll pay for my bowl. You pay for my sick bag," the God of Conquest corrected, letting his head sink into his arms that were folded on top of the table. After a few minutes of wallowing, he could hear dishes being placed onto the table he was moping on. Lifting his head, he was met with a cheery smile from the server.

He was also met with the incredibly _foreign_ smell of the typical salty brine of _shio_ ramen with what appeared to be dark chocolate noodles of all things. He wasn't sure _how_ she had made the chocolate noodles, but he knew his tongue was about to make its last stand, especially since he could see Kusunoki's normally infallible composure shatter after the first slurp.

Well, that bowl wasn't getting any lighter.

He tried giving it a chance despite knowing better. He made sure to eat the noodles while slurping on the soup, but that turned out to be a ghastly mixture of sweetness from the chocolate, saltiness from the broth, and oiliness from just being ramen that didn't work with the fruit bowl and _definitely_ didn't work with this one.

"So… how was it? Better than the fruit bowl at least, Tonkotsu?" Sumire asked, untainted hope on her face as she clasped her hands together in silent prayer.

Keima made sure to crush that hope as quickly as possible before it could spread to any other would-be ramen chefs. However, he was beaten to the punch by Kusunoki, "It's horrible. The salt really doesn't go well with the chocolate noodles at all."

"I have to admit that it's better than the fruit bowl," Keima added, "but only because there isn't any melon bunny garnish to eat like last time. None of the problems from the last bowl were addressed in this one."

"Ehe, I appreciate your honesty. Other customers just laugh it off and never order it again," Sumire's expression deflated slightly, although a bittersweet smile remained stuck on her face. "Ah, if only I had people as constructive as you two to taste test my specials for me."

Keima gulped as she saw a glint in Kusunoki's eye. "I'll make you an offer. We'll taste test your specials once a week for free..."

"…but you have to teach us how to cook in return."

* * *

Shiori, sitting on a bench right outside the train station, was slightly concerned. She looked at her timepiece and noted that it was ten past five in the afternoon, yet there was no sign of Keima. Sure, had only been a handful of minutes past the agreed meetup time, but the calculative nerd didn't seem like the type to be tardy, especially since she made him know she wasn't too proud to sell him out to his mother if the date went awry.

Oh well, Shiori knew how to avoid dying of boredom.

She pulled out _How to Make Him Fall for You in a Fortnight_ , taking note of how much progress she had made. Her cheeks slightly tinted at remembering how he had offhandedly complemented her sundress when she took him out to the bookstore-café Concordia for _Day 3: Wear Something New to Work_. She was at the moment about to wrap up _Day 4: Schedule a Home Visit_ , since right after that not-so-punctual boy was in sight, she'd drag him to her house. Half of her found it to be a bit embarrassing to let him into her room, so she made a rather safe bet that Keima wouldn't care to ask to see it. The other half… well, she didn't want to give too much exposure to that _naughty_ side of hers.

Continuing, _Day 5: Show Off Your Talents_ was the thing really taking up her time. While the book _was_ designed to be able to be completed within two weeks just as it said on the tin, it recommended that lots of time must be spent on _Day 5_ and _Day 6: Give Him a Gift_ since the former would show why he should be interested in her and the latter would show how interested _she_ was in _him_. Since they were so important, it would be ill advised to rush through them.

Still, she had no idea how far the competition had gone to woo over her beloved. As far as she knew, she was still the only one to have captured the Capturing God's lips, so she was ahead on those terms, but despite that, Shiori was still worried. Was it wise to heed the advice of the book and slow down, or was it pragmatic to rush ahead and risk it to stay ahead of the pack?

She was wrest from her thoughts because the man of the hour finally ended up in her line of sight, weaving out of the throng of people trying to enter the station. Watching Keima walk up to her, Shiori could tell that he had exhausted himself. Weird. Had he run over here? He had essentially the whole day to prepare for their little date, so she had no clue as to what held him up.

On the other hand, Keima knew full well why he was late. It wasn't a pleasant experience, and he could only blame Kusunoki and himself.

 _Kusunoki's cheeks started to flush, "Besides, if I am to be honest, this date is mostly about what comes after lunch."_

"What comes after", huh? Sure, Keima expected it…

 _She pinned his wrists above his head to the alleyway wall with her left hand. Her eyes held fervor, her fingers traced his upper lip as she licked her own._

…but the intensity of the act…

 _Lips smashed into his. A clinical part of his brain told him they tasted fuller than_ that other girl's _. The other parts were telling it to go jump in a fire._

…the surge of euphoria the act sent through his body…

 _Her left hand stopped restraining him, instead circling around his back and pulling him against her. He felt her figure melt into his, learning just how soft the martial artist's body was._

…the way it drained him of all agency…

 _As if they had minds of their own, his arms snaked around the pleasant feeling girl pressed against him, down past her waist, and he noticed how deep his fingers could sink into her backside. Not a single protest was heard from the girl. She was too busy using her tongue to trace kana on the inside of his mouth._

…was something he never could have seen coming…

 _Her right hand cupped his face, gentle yet restraining, as she brought her head to the crook of his neck. He shivered as her breath tickled his collarbone. He could feel her lips press against the skin right above it. A sudden jolt of pain surged as he felt Kusunoki sucked on his neck, as if she was trying to drain him dry._

…despite his years of experience playing games.

 _After what seemed like a fortnight, she pulled her head away from him, though it lingered close enough to feel her breath on his face. Her still wet lips curled into the widest smile he had ever seen on her as the arms wrapped around him only tightened its hold._

Physical intimacy was his kryptonite.

" _Thank you for the meal, Keima…"_

Just what was she thinking? A kiss was to be expected, but a full on make out session was a little too scandalous for someone who had just started exploring her other emotions. She didn't bother explaining. Right after that last line, she just bolted off, as if she realized just what she had done to him. There had to be something - or someone - influencing her to make that extra push. Hmph, another invisible flag he couldn't see. Was it one of the members of her dojo? Maybe it had something to do with that sister of hers that she was going to pick up. It better not be that Sayaka girl from the Martial Arts club that was fond of shipping. Or maybe-

"Keima. Keima? Are you okay, Keima? What happened?"

Keima was shook out of his thoughts literally. Blinking his eyes a bit, he could see Shiori, concern etched on her pouting face. He immediately schooled his features, making sure not to betray a single hint as to what conspired to the bookworm.

After all, if he did, his whole hour of changing out of the wrinkled outfit, taking a bath to remove the musky scent that lingered, and snatching his mom's concealer in order to hide the little "gift" Kusunoki left around his neck would have all been for naught. Speaking of the latter, he was lucky she had a shade of green for the angry splotch of red on his neck, otherwise Keima would have had to pull off a Kanon and wear a scarf in mid-August.

"I've had a nasty migraine since lunchtime, so sorry if I zone out sometimes," Keima's fib slid out of his mouth like butter, but from the unconvinced look he received, his bait and tackle had no takers. Oh well, as long as she didn't confront him anytime soon, Keima would live.

"Alright, if you say so. Now, let's hurry; we might miss the train."

After a thankfully uneventful train ride and a serene walk, the two ended up in front of the Shiomiya residence. It looked like a simple western-style house, more than large enough to house a couple and their kid while not making the Shiomiya's look filthy rich. It suited someone like Shiori, who was cute and talented in her own right, but not enough to be noticed.

After fumbling a bit with the keys, Shiori swung open the door, "Please, come in."

Walking in and taking off his shoes, Keima surveyed his surroundings. A lot of warm colors, with brown wooden floor paneling and crimson red walls, made the place feel cozy. The only thing upsetting the calm in the house was Shiori, who was furiously shuffling about, trying to be a good host by turning on the TV, cranking up the AC, and directing Keima into the living room.

"Please make yourself at home, Keima. I'll get started on cooking dinner," Shiori said, walking to the back where he assumed the kitchen was. "Any preferences?"

Just one. "No noodles please. Or pasta."

"Um, sure," the librarian got out, a little surprised at the oddly specific comment coming out of the boy who usually didn't have a preference about anything other than games. "I was hoping to make carbonara, but since you aren't in the mood for it, I guess I'll just make a simple curry."

Soon enough, the lively fragrance of spices wafted throughout Shiori's abode, and now that Shiori was occupied, Keima got a chance to take a look around the living room. Seemed like standard issue at a first glance, with grey couches encircling a burgundy coffee table. Strewn across the tabletop were a multitude of romance novels, teen magazines, and other love-related paraphernalia. Keima had to wonder if Shiori just forgot to put away her "references" or if she left them out for him to see on purpose for some psychological reason. He guessed the latter, so he decided to go along and see what the girl was playing at.

The couches in the living room were all pointed towards a rather large curved TV. From the nature documentary on the screen, he could see that the contrast was excellent and the blacks were deep – signs of an OLED screen. He noticed that the image was crisp enough to be a UHD display. As someone who meticulously picked out the six gaming monitors in his bedroom, Keima knew that the TV had to be incredibly pricy. That combined with the comfortably large house they had showed how affluent Shiori's family was. It was interesting, since Shiori rarely showed off her upper middle-class wealth. He filed that data away for future use.

"Keima," Shiori hollered, bringing the boy out of his thoughts, "dinner's ready."

Getting up from the couch, he made his way over to the dining area. It wasn't nearly as furnished as the living room; all it featured was a simple round mahogany table with three chairs of the same make flanking it. The only ornament on the table was a small bowl of mints. Keima pulled out a seat for himself as Shiori walked over with two steaming bowls of rice curry in her hands. With a grace that betrayed the number of hours put into practicing the movements, Shiori slid a bowl in front of him.

He took a whiff. Smelled good. He was impressed but not surprised. It seemed that the meek librarian was a good cook as well. He wondered if Kusunoki would have rather had the bookworm teach her instead of Sumire if she had known the former knew how to cook. He would have gladly told the martial artist about Shiori's culinary competency since he was reluctant to be the Uemoto girl's guinea pig, but the less potential allies Shiori had, the better, so steering the two apart was his best option.

Watching the boy she liked dig into her labor of love, Shiori smiled, pulling out a tiny pocketbook, "Is it good?"

"Yes," Keima acceded, shoveling food into his mouth with his right hand as he gamed with his other.

The mood around the table settled into a comfortable silence, Keima relaxing into his gaming mode while Shiori just enjoyed being in close proximity with her crush. Well, for the most part. A part of her was still trying to answer the question of the day: would she give more time to showing off her talents, or was she just going to wing it and do _something_ tomorrow?

After a few more minutes of serene contemplation, Shiori made up her mind. She suddenly stood up, popped a mint in her mouth, and leaned over the table, her loose cotton tee hanging low enough to give Keima a good look down her shirt. Fanning her shirt, she tried to make her voice as low and sultry as possible, "S-so what do you want to do after this? My parents won't be home for hours."

Luckily for Keima, that little _treat_ Kusunoki gave him desensitized him a tad to the pleasures of the flesh, so he managed to hide his flush remarkably well for someone so surprised. "Ms. Shiomiya, you're trying to seduce me, aren't you?"

"Huh?" Shiori poured all the femininity into the alluring giggle she blew his way. "Keima, I'm not trying to seduce you."

"Seduction doesn't suit you," Keima admitted, shaking his head and giving the would-be seductress a poke on the forehead.

"It was worth a shot," Shiori pouted, returning to her seat. Welp, _Teen Rogue_ appeared to be a periodical that gave lackluster advice. Never gonBena read _that_ magazine again. "Okay, onto the real thing I wanted to bring up. I want to write a short story for you."

Keima pursed his lips. It seemed a little too close to Chihiro's arc. Was she going to ask him to read her incomplete story for her too? Reality was a little _too_ crafty to just recycle plot points like that. He'd just have to feel out the differences, "Do you want me to help-"

"No," Shiori said, shaking her head. "This is something I need to do by myself. I'll show you that I'm just as talented as those other girls."

* * *

 **Beta Reader: xellos540**

 **Please check the bio for the full AN**


	16. Enter Yui Goidou

_Connection 16: Enter Yui Goidou_

* * *

"And there," Akko said, locking the sliding door in place. She turned to her friends, saying, "Now we have the whole room to ourselves!"

"Heh, I guess all that Student Council work has paid off," Saito replied, a smile on her face as she leafed through her copy of the Knighthood files in one of the unused clubrooms. Portrait shots of conventionally attractive high school boys littered the pages, complete with their vital statistics as well as a few random tidbits. It seems like whoever compiled the list had a real attention to detail when it came to what made guys so alluring. The track-and-field member stopped on a particularly _delicious_ photo of the male swim team captain shirtless, beads of water running down his broad chest. " _Yum._ Maybe I should have stayed in the swim club if I could get together with _this_ guy in a year."

"He's graduating this year though," the actual swim club member pointed out, causing a pout to grow on Saito's face as Akko made her way to the whiteboard next to the wall. Pulling out her marker, she hashed a bunch of kanji together, writing "brown hair", "glasses", "2nd year", and other parameters Minami had supplied her with a while back.

"Alright, girls, let's start," Akko declared. She tapped the butt of the marker to the whiteboard, "Now, this is what we know of this 'mystery man', and if he's worth ol' bird nest's time-"

"Hey!"

"-then he'll be in this book. Commence the search, ladies!"

Having divided the second-year section of the reference into three, the group set off on their search. For half an hour, the trio went from cover to cover, trying their best to pin a name to the unknown man of Minami's musings. It didn't seem to be going well, however.

"Is it _this_ guy?" Saito asked, nudging the swimmer with her elbow. Peeking over her shoulder, Minami looked at the boy plastered on the page. He was handsome, sure, but his hair was a little too groomed to be Kanon's affiliate. With a shake of the head, Minami returned to her copy of the Knighthood files, noting that she was only a few pages away from the end of her section, and from the looks of the other girls, it seemed that they were nearing the end of their sections as well.

"Ooh, Taki Anaru from the baking club is _soooo_ hot. I wouldn't mind him kneading my dough," Akko gushed, droop seeping out of her mouth and onto the page. Realizing that the other two were shooting her raised eyebrows, the Student Council member got her act together, wiping her mouth. "Too bad his hair is black, not brown."

"Well, I'm out of brunettes," Saito announced, tossing her Knighthood files aside. She checked her watch. It was almost time to head to the sports complex and, much to her dismay, hit the gym. "Any luck, girls?"

"He's not in my section, that's for sure," Akko replied, stowing her copy away as well. "Minami?"

"Then either he's not a junior, or he's not in the files," the addressed girl concluded, pouting. Hopefully Kanon would say his name during the swimming session later that day because if she didn't, Minami would have to pour over the freshman and senior sections of the Knighthood files, and going through all of those guys was going to be a pain.

"That doesn't make sense," Akko pondered, bringing a hand to her chin as she picked up her bag. "If he's handsome, he _has_ to be in the files, but Minami said he isn't ugly. Oh well, I'll try asking around, but I doubt any of the middle school students here know what's going on in the high school outside of what's in the Knighthood files."

"Good idea. I'll ask some of my track-and-field upperclassman too," Saito responded, getting up and walking towards the door. "I'm going to the sports complex."

"I'll go with you. See you later, Akko," Minami said, rising as a faint smile grew on her face. ' _I hope to see you later too, Kanon.'_

* * *

Saeko Okada was a professional. She never took breaks, not out of necessity, but of passion for her job, she always handled paperwork and negotiated contracts sometimes weeks before they were needed, and she incessantly took care to divert as much work as possible from Kanon's teenaged shoulders and onto her own, even though she still tended to shovel a bit too much onto the idol's plate sometimes.

Speaking of Kanon, Saeko had sort of a soft spot for the girl under her wing. Of course, the manager couldn't afford to show that side to Kanon – appearances had to be kept up, after all – so she had a weird way to show that love and care: through being strict and overly worrying. It was a bit unorthodox, but as far as Saeko knew, Kanon was fine with it.

Right now, Saeko Okada was doing the latter: worrying her butt off. There was just something… _off_ with Kanon. When cameras and mics were pointed at her, the pinkette performed flawlessly, sure, but it was when the stage lights were off, when it was just the two of them in Kanon's dressing room that Kanon's weird behavior surfaced.

A month or so ago, Kanon would spend her extremely limited free time studying in advance, humming a verse, or catching a few winks. Recently, however, the girl could be found flicking through her phone with a smile on her face brighter than the ones she'd flash in the studio. There was a bit more evidence supporting this abnormal behavior; the swimsuit for the music video shoot was used, and she found that the contents of the waste bin next to the desk in Kanon's room was filled with nothing else but multiple receipts for some random coffee shop called _Concordia_..

While Okada was happy that Kanon was happy, she couldn't help but admit that not knowing the source of Kanon's glee scared Saeko to her core. There would be significant ramifications if Kanon was all of a sudden deprived of whatever dopamine feed she had latched onto, so it was obvious why the raven-haired manager felt she needed to have control over Kanon's little source of joy.

So when Kanon had asked her earlier this morning if she could stay for an extra hour after class, Saeko felt that it _had_ to be connected to that thing on her phone, especially since she saw the idol pack an extra set of clothes and the bikini, so she took a risk; she threw the carefully arranged schedule into the wind and allowed it, planning to spy on her during her little school hijinks.

And now, Saeko Okada was reaping the benefits.

"Just who _is_ that boy?" Okada whispered, her voice dipping into a deep alto as she watched the duo from behind the bleachers that were next to the changing rooms. Hunched over, Saeko knew she wasn't in the most dignified spot, and if any of her subordinates saw her in such a position, she'd have to have words with them. Harsh words.

Oblivious to the ever-growing number of observers, Keima popped his head out of the water. He faced Kanon, who was sitting on the side of the pool with her feet in the water. "And that's the kind of arm motion you need to do to perform the breaststroke. Just combine that with the whip kick and you're good to go."

"Can you demonstrate it for me?" Kanon asked as Keima pulled himself up to her side.

He was breathing hard, a hand on his aching bicep. In his rush to finish the session, he had forgotten to stretch, and now he was paying the price. "Give me a sec. I'll catch my breath."

"Mou, Keima. You don't last long, now do you?" the idol giggled, gently poking a finger into his side.

Keima raised a brow at the innuendo, and suddenly, he couldn't read the expression on her face. Usually, Kanon wore her heart on her sleeve around the boy; after all, he was apparently the only person she could open up to. It was jarring to him that she could conceal her true feelings to the point that even _he_ couldn't tell if she was just oblivious to her innuendo, if she was just taking the piss out of him, or if she was genuinely propositioning him. Before, he would have assumed the former, as that was the more common response in games, though after his recent overexposure to Kusunoki's body and Shiori's failed attempt to seduce him, he couldn't be 100 percent sure.

Neither of the hidden observers really noticed the innuendo, however. All they heard was "Keima."

"Keima. So that's his name," Minami whispered from her old hiding spot. While his swimming wasn't flawless – it was a little too stiff, for one – he and his composure next to a drop-dead gorgeous girl like Kanon still struck Minami with awe. Unable to help herself, she pulled out her phone and quickly snapped a shot of just Keima, not wanting to accidentally expose Kanon to unwanted scandals.

That would make the search easier.

Eventually deciding to play along with Kanon, Keima replied, "I'll have you know I maxed out my stamina gauge… in games."

"Su-ta-mi-na… ge-i-ji?" Kanon sounded out the katakana, unfamiliar with the term he used. It seemed like Ayumi still held the crown for deepest gaming vocabulary out of the seven or so girls he had met. "Anyway, I hope you have no other plans on that day, Keima, 'cause I don't, and I want to spend it with you. Dinner?"

"I have work right after our session though," he replied, not wanting to increase his propinquity points with her anymore. He wanted to help her, not have her hound him. He already had Kusunoki and Shiori on that front, and having an idol who was armed to the teeth and could seemingly find him without breaking a sweat wouldn't help matters.

"If you don't show up, I'm sure you'll find the results rather… _shocking_ ," Kanon promised, and seemingly from out of nowhere, she pulled out one of her stun guns and held it in her left hand. Just where did she hide that? It couldn't have been… "Oh, don't look so sad, Keima. I'm sure you'll enjoy the present I'm going to give you on Wednesday."

"Wait, you're going to give me something? What is it?" Keima asked, as Kanon scooted over until their shoulders were touching. He could feel Kanon circle her right arm around his back, and Keima could only pray that it wasn't going to be a repeat of Kusunoki's experimenting.

"Hi-mi-tsu," the idol enunciated with a sultry tone, and with a push, he was shoved into the pool.

* * *

It was a normal school day. Ayumi was, like on many other days, spending her lunch break with her friends on the rooftop.

"Ugh, my calves are still sore from training yesterday," the short haired runner groaned as she took a sip of her whey shake, rubbing her aching leg muscles with her other hand.

 _Well, it was supposed to be a normal day._

"I know, right?" Mikayo chuckled, helping herself to another bite of her _bentou_. "Coach can get a little too overeager."

 _However, Ayumi couldn't shake the feeling…_

"It's like she didn't know we were going to have gym later," Ayumi said, unease completely unrelated to their upcoming track meet settling in.

… _that Chihiro and Keima…_

She looked at the duo who were being disconcerting, even though there was nothing overtly wrong with them. They were just sitting next to each other in silence: one flipping through a periodical, the other tapping on a PFP. Still, Ayumi could feel that they…

… _were getting closer._

"Kats- I mean _slave_ ," Chihiro said with a surprising lack of loathing, and Keima instantly looked at her when he would have normally kept his gaze on his game. Two strikes. "My shoulders ache."

"And what do you want me to do about it?" Keima replied.

"Massage me," Chihiro replied, turning her back to the boy completely nonchalantly, as if her request wasn't completely out of the blue. Third strike. "C'mon, hurry up."

And not a single complaint left Keima's mouth, "Right, right."

The fact that they were on civil terms with each other was simply jarring to the runner who was so used to the two being at each other's throats. While the sight of two of her friends on amiable terms should have made her happy, it made her feel something Ayumi thought she'd never feel towards Chihiro.

Jealous. Ayumi was jealous.

A part of her was disgusted that her infatuation towards Keima was starting to stain the bond she and Chihiro shared green. The runner already felt bad when the envy was directed at Kusunoki and Shiori, people whom she liked but wasn't all that familiar with. Knowing that she harbored such negative feelings towards her best friend was absolutely appalling to Ayumi.

Another part played to her id, reflecting the more carnal side of the runner. Keima was hers first! She met him before the others, she helped him before the others, she _felt something_ for him before the others. It was unfair that there were so many other girls trying to get in her way of that.

She knew that those thoughts were wrong-

 _That spot she's sitting in should be mine._

 _-_ that just because she was kind, even affectionate towards Keima didn't mean that he owed her his affection in return. However, her aching heart-

 _That shoulder Keima's massaging should be mine._

-yearned for it, and while it disgusted her to some degree, Ayumi found that it wasn't enough to stop her from feeling this way.

' _Why am I even feeling this way towards Chihiro? She doesn't even like him, right?'_ That foreign envy only grew as she watched Keima's deft fingers knead Chihiro's skin and listened to Chihiro's barely audible moans of approval.

What Ayumi couldn't hear was what the two were whispering to each other.

"I thought you didn't want my 'Otamegerms' or whatever?" Keima asked.

"It's 'cooties', and you know why

"Anyway, you weren't lying about listening to my song, right?" Chihiro asked, her voice sounding rather timid for once.

"No."

"Good. Now- nkgh!" Chihiro grunted. She turned around and shot Keima a glare. "Be gentle with me, you idiot. I may not be as cute as Ayumi, but I'm a delicate girl too. Hmph, you're not very good at this."

A split second before she swung her gaze back towards her magazine, she saw him roll his eyes. "Of course not. My family runs a café, not a spa. Anyway, what were you saying?"

"I'm trying to rent a cheap studio for our little session, so I'm going to need to know when you're free. Is tomorrow fine with you?"

"I'm busy."

' _With Kanon. Ugh,'_ internally groaned the nerd, moving his thumb down to her shoulder blades. Finding a muscle knot, he did his best to push it out, hoping to vent his frustrations out on it. ' _Sure, she's been rather calm ever since the swimming sessions started, but I feel like it's just the calm before the storm. Oh well, it's not like I have a choice in the matter.'_

"Well, then when are you free- good Lord." Feeling the muscle knot untighten as Keima did his ministrations, Chihiro remarked, "I take that back. You're not so bad at this after all."

"Wonderful. I'll give you my business card when I open up a massage parlor," the bespectacled boy replied, sarcasm dripping from his lips as he drew back his hands.

Now, just when _was_ he free? His main free time killer was his part time shift at the Aoyama bakery, which was from 4 to 8 on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays-

Oh wait, _Wednesday_.

Keima held back a groan. He just realized he had to tell Rin later that day that he had urgent business to attend to the next day. Knowing how frugal the former aristocrat was, he knew he'd be lucky to get away without a pay cut. Well, since Wednesday and Thursday were out of the question, that left only two options: Friday, since there was no work, and Saturday, since there was a four hour gap in between the end of school and the start of his shift.

"I'm free on Friday and Saturday."

"That's settled then," Chihiro whispered, closing her magazine and turning back to face the two others, not privy to the inner turmoil her short haired friend was dealing with.

* * *

"Of course the weather decides to drop by a million degrees on the day I forget my knee socks," Mio, weighted down by groceries, whined. She tugged on her skirt with her free hand in a futile attempt at keeping herself warm as a chilly autumn breeze went right through her, causing her to shiver. She shook her head. "At least my new… _status_ allows me to do things 'unbefitting of a noblewoman' like complain."

She looked at her wristwatch. It was old. It had a few dings along the gold case and a few scuffs marring the watch face, but Mio kept using it. While it did remind her of her long gone halcyon days, she knew her father would have wanted her to use it instead of have it collect dust in her mom's humble apartment. "Four thirty, huh? I almost forgot how time tends to fly whenever I peruse the grocer's wares. Good thing I only have to go once a week thanks to Katsurago. In hindsight, I guess I should be more lenient next time he takes forever at the supermarket. Hm, I hope he isn't messing up anything, though I guess Mom can rein him in if it comes to that."

She was shaken out of her musing by the sight of a black limousine parked right outside the Aoyama bakery. While the act itself was uncommon – most rich folk had other people handle mundane errands like buying fresh bread at a bakery – Mio could have sworn she recognized the license plate. The pigtailed girl's heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. Was this one of her former "friends" back to ridicule her again? Mio felt she had finally gotten over the last incident, but could she handle another one?

Deciding to quickly get it over with, Mio quickened her pace, arriving in front of the window peering into her mom's establishment. She saw Keima with a broom in hand dusting the floor in the background. A bit farther away, Mio saw a young girl her age in a kimono flanked by a burly yet sharp bodyguard, an earpiece visible on his person. A surge of relief and dread surged through her. Bad news: the girl looking around the store was someone Mio knew, and they didn't part on very pleasant terms. Good news: the girl wasn't one of _them_. She was someone who genuinely liked Mio, even after her father's passing, and Mio could safely say that she liked her back.

That was why Mio knew that this upcoming confrontation probably wasn't going to be very enjoyable.

Mio entered the bakery.

Hearing the jingle of the bells attached to the entrance of the bakery, Keima drew his attention away from sweeping behind the counter to the door. Seeing Mio hastily walk up to the counter, he asked, "Should I put this in the backroom?"

Normally, Mio had a smug grin or an angry snarl on her face. There was nothing but steel in her eyes at that moment, however. Her voice low, she commanded Keima's attention with a charisma worthy of someone of her former background, "I'll handle it. I just needed to tell you not to speak up unless spoken to."

"Why?"

She gave him a bewildered look. What, had he grown devil horns or something? "She's Yui Goidou. Her family is a major benefactor to Maijima. She's above us. If anything were to happen to her, even if Yui wouldn't personally see it as a slight, her bodyguards would report the incident to her parents, and the Goidou matriarch is extremely overprotective of her. She'd go on rampage through the store. Please, play it safe, Keima."

' _Above us?'_ thought Keima. Needless to say, the nerd didn't like the sound of that. Even discounting how his Godliness felt affronted by that remark, he couldn't help but conclude that despite whatever affluent past Mio may have had, she didn't see herself as that any longer and she felt like _trash_ because of it.

Little did Keima know that the other girl had listened in on their little conversation, and he failed to see her lips curl into a small frown.

"Right," Keima replied, a little stunned by how eerily emotionless Mio's voice was as she quickly ducked into the back with her groceries in hand. Turning away from the door, Keima's gaze landed on the girl staring right at him. They locked eyes, though Keima quickly broke it, not wanting to come off as rude.

During that split second, however, Keima reaffirmed what he had concluded earlier: that she looked incredible. Clad in an elegant kimono and obi, no blemishes marred the brunett's immaculate complexion, as if untouched by the outside world. Keima supposed it was fitting; judging from Mio's quick description, Yui didn't seem to be in the position to live the way she wanted to outside of what the weight of her last name required of her.

From the way she looked at him, he could tell she wanted to ask if Mio was returning, and while normally he'd just answer her unspoken question, he decided to defer to Mio on that front.

He didn't want the pigtailed girl to fire him, after all.

After a few more seconds of palpable silence, Yui and her bodyguard walked up to the counter with a mundane loaf of bread in her hands. "I'd like to purchase this, please."

"That'll be two hundred yen," Keima replied, punching in the numbers into the cash register. Nodding, she reached into the schoolbag in her bodyguard's grasp and pulled out a dainty coin purse with a distinct "LV" logo on it. ' _Yep, she is definitely loaded.'_

As she handed him her payment, Yui asked, "Is Mio going to come back out? I wish to speak to her."

"Well, she should be back here in a minute or so. If she doesn't show up by then, I'll go check for you. Would that be fine?"

Just as she was about to assent to it, Mio popped back out, her features betraying not a single drop of nervousness the girl of the hour was feeling at the moment.

"Mio, it's great to see you again," Yui greeted, beaming at the high school girl in front of her.

"It's been a long while since we've last talked to each other," Mio politely replied back. ' _Not long enough. Why is she here? I thought I made it clear that the rift between us caused by the incident was too big. Was she going to make another attempt at friendship?'_

"It's been far too long, I agree," the affluent woman said, missing Mio's inner turmoil. "I wanted to ask you for a favor. I'm going to host a tea ceremony, and since Mother wants to keep the tradition alive amongst the youth, she wants me to serve people my age, so can you help me out? I'd really appreciate it."

Mio looked calm, though Keima could look past the cracks and see the hurt on her face. "I apologize, but I'm going to have to politely decline your offer. It… it simply isn't right for a high-class woman like you to want to bring someone like _me_ to such a prestigious event."

Keima bowed his head a little, wincing. He could _see it_. Mio, a former aristocrat, sees herself as a commoner and feels subpar because of it. Now, she goes about life, not completely empty, but always incomplete. Many games had this kind of plot, and the solution usually was to make her see value in her commoner self through love. He could modify that a bit so he didn't have a lover on his hands by the end of it, and then he'd have his Ending.

Still, he didn't want to step in. While his atrophy-afflicted conscience had been kickstarted by Ayumi, he could see the amount of effort it would take to complete Mio's route along with balancing the others' routes, and he wasn't looking forward to it.

So Keima stayed silent.

"But Mother did not specify that the guests had to come from backgrounds similar to mine," Yui rebutted. "Besides, you know how I'm not on very good terms with most of the other aristocratic teenagers our age. I need you, Mio."

"I'm sorry, but I can't."

' _She still doesn't see us as equals, even though Mrs. Aoyama told me Mio had become at peace with her father's passing,'_ Yui thought, forcing herself to mask the pout on her face. ' _How long do I have to wait just to hear her say my name again? Months, years? Every second I waste not acting, I feel like she's drifting farther and farther away. I_ have _to get through to her, either now or never. What can I do?'_

An idea sparked in the affluent girl's head. "Very well. I know you well enough to know when you won't budge on a topic. Still, I need another person around our age. Hm..."

Yui made a show of panning through the room, eventually letting her gaze settle on Keima. "You will do."

Keima looked over at Mio. Her eyes, previously stony, were lit with a tiny spark. While it warmed Keima an infinitesimal amount, he could feel the stun gun to his back and the fist to his stomach. There was no point of risking the carefully balanced connections he had formed in order to add another one to the list. Bowing his head a bit, Keima started, "I don't-"

"Oh, I almost forgot to say that you'll be compensated generously by the Goidou family."

…Well, there was a point now.

Trying to keep his game-lust in check, he replied, "I'm in."

* * *

 **Beta Reader: xellos540**

 **Sorry for the late update. Please check out my bio for the AN**


	17. An Afternoon Break

_Connection 17: An Afternoon Break_

* * *

Akko wasn't feeling nervous, even though she felt like a stranger walking through the east school building. Despite the innumerable amount of high school students passing her by, Akko was too determined to be intimidated. After all, she had a very important job to do – get Minami her man! Sure, the meek swimmer never really gave off any clear indication that she wanted this mystery boy, but Akko would be incredibly surprised if that wasn't the case, looking at all the effort Minami put into the search.

Heck, she even managed to convince her two closest friends to work their asses off too. Akko found it funny how Minami had her and Saito wrapped around the swimmer's finger, just because she rarely asked for anything from them.

Getting all the chuckles out of her system, Akko looked up at the sign above the sliding door. Student Council Clubroom, it read in kanji. If it wasn't in the east wing, she wouldn't have been able to tell the room apart from its middle school counterpart. Courage already mustered, she rapped her knuckles against the door and waited for a response.

"Please enter," Akko heard a calm yet cold voice from within the room.

Obeying, Akko slide aside the door and stepped in, taking in the view. Once again, it seemed rather similar to the middle school student council, with a large whiteboard almost the size of the wall facing the roundtable the council members were seated around. One difference that Akko couldn't help but be irritated at was that the seats the members were on were comfy looking swivel chairs: completely outclassing those cheap monobloc chairs Akko had to sit her ass down on for what seemed to be millennia at a time. Hmm, could she manage to convince Hana to add that to the club facilities budget for next trimester-

"Hello," the secretary-apparent greeted, standing up from her seat, walking up to the girl and bending slightly at the waist. "It's been a while, Akko."

"I-it's been a while Hana," Akko replied. Hoping not to cause a social faux pas, she did some quick mental calculations in her head and managed to bow at the same angle. Akko liked the girl, sure, but she was incredibly scary, especially when the others were too busy to rein her in, so the middle school girl made sure to be on her best behavior. "Is Ichika free?"

"Yes. Ichika," Hana replied, raising her voice in order to get her public relations officer to hear her as she walked back to her station, "someone's waiting for you."

"Ah, Akko, I'll be right there!" Ichika replied. Watching the older girl as she moseyed her way towards her, Akko couldn't help but note how aloof Ichika was. Sure, the busiest time of the year for the PRO – the cultural festival – was still a long way's away, but it seemed that Ichika was incredibly free. Oh well, Akko wasn't one to judge; before kaichou threatened to double her workload, Akko was a habitual procrastinator as well. "So, what did you want me for again?"

Pulling out her phone, the middle school girl tapped on her Photos app and displayed the most recent picture. "Do you happen to know this guy?"

Akko was surprised when Ichika replied instantly, "Ah, Mr. Miracle Worker himself!"

This started a whole cascade of replies, as if a fire was lit under the student council: who is she talking about?

Otamegane.

Ah, Kusunoki's lapdog.

The rooftop recluse?

Yeah. That's where his gaming church congregates, after all.

Wait, isn't that the guy Fujidera can't get over?

"Our relationship is perfectly cordial. I would appreciate it if you were to keep yourselves out of my affairs," one girl replied coldly, ending the whole affair.

As the previously pumped up students awkwardly returned to doing their paperwork, Akko suddenly felt very, very small. '…Just what did I get myself into?'

"Well, as you can see, Keima Katsuragi has been our talk of the town around here," Ichika replied, her smile brightening. "Before I go off tangent, is there anything you'd like to know about him? I'm afraid I can't divulge his measurements, but if you ask nicely-"

"Er, I'm not here for that," Akko waved off, so stunned by the earlier wave of comments she was nonplussed. "He doesn't really strike me as anyone significant, so I'm just wondering why you guys know about him."

"Well, he helped us out with a rather significant problem that plagued the school for almost three years for starters," the older girl replied, putting a hand under her chin. "You know, it's rather interesting to see how divisive his personality is – some of us appreciate his straight approach to things, while others are off-put by his creepy tendencies."

"It seems like someone appreciates him a lot."

"Ah, Ms. Fujidera. He helped out one of her closest friends in the library committee she represents, which is what made her pitch him to us in the first place. She was the first one who believed in him; in a way, she was his talent scout. Now, most of us want to have him tackle other problems in our student body, though we're finding it difficult to incentivize him, to put it succinctly."

"My friend is, um, interested in him, so that's a relief," Akko said, wiping her brow. Even though the middle school girl was sure that Minami would beat out Fujidera when it came to winning the heart of this "Keima Katsuragi" based on looks alone, Akko also knew that Minami wouldn't have the ovaries to try and compete.

Akko could see the gears churning in Ichika's head as she mumbled to herself, "Well, if she does… then maybe… Hm… Alright, I'll give you a little nudge in the right direction. Wait here."

Ichika darted back to her seat in the table, dove into the pile of paperwork on her desk, and ran back with a small sheet of paper in her hand. Ichika handed it to her, and Akko found that what was on the slip was a short list of names scrawled out in hastily written kanji. Akko, raising her gaze from the sheet, asked, "Just what is this?"

"These are the girls seen interacting with Mr. Katsuragi most frequently. I was wondering what to do with this information, and now I know to give it to you. I trust you know what needs to be done."

Nodding, Akko started reading the list. "…Ayumi Takahara, huh?"

* * *

"So yeah, sorry guys, but we can't eat lunch," Ayumi said, hands pressed together palm to palm as an act of pleading, "because Miyako and I have to go to the track field. Team meeting."

"Have fun, you two," Chihiro waved off, not even sparing the runners a glance as they left the classroom. She was too busy devouring the magazine in her off-hand. It featured an article about male haircuts, of all things, and how to give someone those kinds of cuts. Sure, Chihiro was initially reeled in by the handsome Korean pop star featured in the article, but the different styles were fascinating in how the same guy with two different hairstyles could change how he overall looked.

Chihiro looked over to where Keima was sitting. He was slouched in his chair tapping away at his PFP, running a free hand through his hair. While it looked kempt for the most part, she noticed a rogue fringe on the back of his head standing up defiantly. For some reason, she felt the insatiable need to grab some gel and pin it down. Weird. There was no reason why she should be interested in anything regarding Keima… aside from the fact that he was the only one who knew of her secret dream and was doing a good job of safeguarding it. She shouldn't be feeling this way, dammit! Chihiro hoped something would distract her from these unusual thoughts.

Her stomach rumbled. She could distract herself from Keima with food.

"Katsuragi, let's go get lunch."

Wait… what was she saying!?

"What are you saying?" Keima asked the same question, raising a brow at her weird behavior.

Oh well, going with the flow was Chihiro's middle name, right? "I'm craving a pork bun, and since I'm sure campus bakery is all sold out at this point, I want to go to the convenience store."

"And why should I go with you?"

"C'mon, I'll treat you," Chihiro bargained, still wondering in the back of her mind why she was going to such lengths just to get him to eat with her.

She wasn't sure whether it was because he wanted the free grub or if he acted out of pity, but after a few seconds of blank staring, Keima replied, "If you insist."

'Eh, whatever. It's probably just code for "I want to talk about the song session" or something,' Keima justified in his mind as he got up from his chair. 'Chihiro would be the last person to be added to that list that Reality seems to be growing more and more lately, so I'm safe there. Still, the lengths she's willing to go to keep her dream a secret are surprising. Hopefully, no complications arise from it; I already have too much on my plate as it is.'

As the two made their way out of the classroom towards the convenience store, though their little trek outside the school did not go unnoticed. Her eyes following the oblivious pair until they went out of sight, the girl laced her fingers together, whispering, "Just what is he getting himself into this time?"

Keima wasn't really sure of that himself as he was dragged along by Chihiro, who was laying out the details to their little excursion, "So I reserved a little studio booth for this Saturday at noon. You're free, right?"

"Yes," Keima replied, feeling lucky that she hadn't scheduled it on a Friday; otherwise, he'd have a scheduling nightmare on his hands. Comparing Chihiro's session to Yui's tea ceremony, even he wasn't sure which one was better to drop since the fallout from ditching either of them would be rather painful. "Where is this booth anyway?"

"That reminds me," Chihiro said, turning on her heel, her skirt swaying with her movement. She slipped a hand in said skirt and fished out a cellphone. "Give me your email."

"Eh, why?" Keima asked, gazing up from his game to shoot her an incredulous look.

"I'll send you the directions," Chihiro justified, shoving her phone in his hands. "Hurry up, Katsuragi, or we'll be late for class."

"Alright, alright," Keima appeased, tapping his details into the phone. Chihiro was being surprisingly accommodating, even considering how they had patched things up at Saizeriya a few days ago. Maybe he should be more concerned about potential additions to that list after all. Oh well, there was no concrete evidence, so he could put off thinking about that route for a bit longer. Handing the phone back to her, he continued on his way, his classmate trailing behind him.

* * *

"No way," Keima declared, stepping outside the door to the pool with Kanon in tow.

Good news first: she had finally gotten a disguise that didn't make her stick out like a sore thumb. Instead of covering herself in layers upon layers of winter garb, she wore brown contact lenses to cover her pink eyes and a long, wavy black wig tied up into a ponytail to hide her pink hair. While it sounded a little too simple on paper, in practice, the wig was indistinguishable from actual hair, having a natural bounce and sway, and since brown was the most common eye color, no one would suspect that they were fake. In effect, she had transformed from an attractive idol to an attractive school girl.

Bad news:

"But Keima, I've already gotten reservations for us at nine thirty," Kanon moaned as she gently rapped her knuckles against his elbow. "There's no time for debate; we only have an hour and a half left."

"You got reservations to a fine dining establishment," the bespectacled boy reiterated as he gestured to both of their outfits, "and we're in high school uniforms. We'll definitely rouse suspicion."

"Oh, I'm sure you have at least a dress shirt and a pair of slacks," Kanon replied, a finger on her lips in contemplation, "and I have a dress with me. I'm sure that'll be enough; the restaurant only calls for business-casual, after all."

"I don't have them with me."

"Well then, we'll just drop by your house and my apartment on the way to the restaurant."

The bombshell she nonchalantly dropped caused his finger to jerk, making him accidentally select the wrong option in his galge. The angry girl on his screen mirrored his emotions perfectly. Incensed, the gamer haphazardly tossed his PFP into his bag, exclaiming, "Are you out of your mind? If my mother sees me with another cute girl, she's going to ask questions neither of us want to answer!"

"Keima, while I appreciate the 'cute' complement…" The temperature suddenly dropped. Keima looked to his left. Beside him was someone who looked like Kanon, although he was sure Kanon had brown contact lenses, not red ones, and he had never seen her use hand wraps before. Crackling her knuckles, the girl beside him – whoever she was – continued, "You haven't been seeing other idols behind my back, have you?"

"You're the only idol for me," appeased Keima, flashing her his brightest smile. Inwardly, he mused, 'She is the only idol I know, so I'm not really lying. Still, I wouldn't have normally slipped up like that. Either the fatigue or the irritation got to me. That's something I need to take care of, especially since I have… sensitive matters that are coming up.'

In the blink of an eye, everything went back to normal for the disguised idol, her eyes returning to brown and her hands free of cloth. "That aside, are we at your home yet? We are a bit pressed for time, after all."

"It's right over there," Keima said, pointing over to where Café Grandpa stood. Just as Kanon continued to walk towards it, the nerd's hand shot out, grasping Kanon's wrist firmly. "Wait, where are you going?"

"I have to change too," Kanon said, tugging at her school ribbon.

Right. Visualize…

Keima turned around. Café Grandpa's lights were on, so Mari didn't take the night off, unsurprisingly. That definitely wasn't an option. While he could have smooth-talked his way out of why he was leaving the house at eight thirty in slacks and a sports jacket, he definitely wouldn't be able to explain away why he had a girl with him without at least an hour-long interrogation. He looked up to the second-floor window. While it was a little too high for any single person to be able to reach-

Keima looked Kanon. She stood just under the tip of his nose. She shot a smile in return. He looked away.

-with a little boost, Kanon might be tall enough to clear the ten feet. Then, he'd be able to waltz in, change into his suit, and get out. Afterwards, he'd go up to his room, and using some bedsheets, he'd lower her back to the ground from the window. Now…

…execute.

"I-I think I got it, Keima," Kanon managed to let out as he heard the creaking sound of unoiled hinges allowing the window to swing open. Then again, he couldn't really allot enough energy to process that since he had forty-five kilograms of girl standing on his raised hands, otherwise he'd be wondering how they were managing such a balancing act. Then, after what felt to be a few millennia, the weight was off of him. He looked up, only to find a pair of legs slithering past the windowsill. He listened for a clumsy thud that may have occurred when Kanon wormed her way into the household. Nothing but sweet silence.

Good. Part one seemed to go smoothly. After tossing up Kanon's bag, Keima moseyed on over to the front of the house, and after wiping his shoes, he made his entrance.

"Hello, oh favorite son of mine. If you haven't eaten yet, there are leftovers in the fridge," his mother cheered as she polished the bar, swabbing a ragged piece of cloth across its almost shimmering surface. He supposed that there was one benefit to all these girls dragging him around; his mom was less on his case. She was just happy he was spending time out of the house instead of running straight from school to his room.

"Thanks, mom," Keima threw her way, pulling out his PFP so as not to look too conspicuous. She bought it, returning to her café duties. He made his way up the stairs, taking the steps two by two. Once he was in front of his room, he gently tapped his knuckles to the door, hoping that Kanon was decent. Grasping the doorknob and noting that it wasn't locked, Keima opened the door.

It was hard to make her out without any light, but he could definitely see the silhouette her figure made. From what he could see from his limited vision, she was already dressed up in whatever outfit she chose for the outing. Deciding it was safe to do so, Keima flicked the light switch next to him, shining light on his man-cave.

The first thing he saw was his gaming rig – six 144hz 4k HDR monitors mounted onto the wall in front of a comfy chair and a tower housing a beastly graphics card and processor. It was a little overly advanced for its galge-playing purposes, but Keima loved it nonetheless, which is why it was so painful to tear his eyes away from it in favor of the second thing in his sight: his cabinet.

As he rifled through it in his search for the only colored button-down he had, Kanon asked, "So… how do I look?"

"Huh?" Keima stuck his head out of the closet to take a look. A black pencil skirt hugged her hips, while she had on her torso a navy-blue wrap top, eerily similar to Kusunoki's. At least the idol's didn't have the weird perforated sleeve seams that Kusunoki's had. He threw a compliment her way, "It suits you. Really, I'm more concerned with how your outfit isn't wrinkled from staying in your bag for so long."

"That's my little se-cret," Kanon enunciated, putting a finger on her lips. Shaking his head, Keima finally managed to find the articles of clothing he was looking for. In contrast with Kanon's blue garb, Keima's button-down just happened to be crimson red, interestingly enough. Looking at the pinkette, he signaled her to turn around, and after a faint blush popped up on her cheeks, Keima changed into his more formal attire.

"Alright," Keima said, the idol turning back towards him as he yanked the sheets off his bed. Looping the bedsheets around Kanon, he explained, "I'm going to lower you. Make sure this tightly around your waist-"

He was interrupted by the sound of a door opening. "Keima, you won't believe who's moving next door this Friday-"

Mari's jaw dropped. In front of her was her one and only son, sharply dressed in a dress shirt she was surprised still fit him, his arms circling the waist of a rather gorgeous young lady Mari had never met before.

All she could say was, "Oh, poor Shiori."

* * *

 **Sorry for being tardy. AN's on my bio.**


	18. Ring

_Connection 18: Ring_

* * *

"Now," Mari started, an arm behind her back as the other one tugged down the scrunchie that held up her ponytail, "just what is going on, Keima?"

Said Keima was currently in the now-vacated café, trying his hardest not to wither under the gaze of his one and only mother. He would have pinched his nose to relieve even a small amount of the duress he was under, but his wrists were currently bound to the armrest of the wooden chair he was sitting on by leather straps the nerd had never seen before in his life. Of course, thanks to his extensive gaming library, he was able to identify the use of such straps immediately, although now that he knew, he promised himself to never walk into his parent's room without knocking on the door. Loudly. Keima replied, "This can all be explained."

"I'm not sure how you'll explain sneaking a girl into your room, but go ahead. I'd like to see you try."

Before Keima could start to bullshit his way out of the situation, Kanon interjected, "Oh, I can explain, Mrs. Katsuragi!"

"Oh, call me Mari, dear," the mother of one replied, her features softening. It reflected the way she treated Kanon; unlike Keima, she wasn't strapped down, and the venom in her voice dried up whenever she addressed the girl. It seemed Mari had a soft spot for the girls in Keima's life. "I'm afraid we haven't met yet. You are…?"

 _'Okay, this will work out. Mom's more inclined to believe her over me anyway, and all Kanon has to do is tell the truth, so even if she was a bad liar – she isn't, by the way - there's no problem there,'_ Keima thought to himself. _'The only thing that worries me is that she is horrible when it comes to hiding her identity. Then again, her disguises have gotten better… I suppose it'll be okay, as long as she doesn't pick something stupid like-'_

"Kanon Nakawaga," the girl said sheepishly, showing the older woman a meek smile as she reached for the wig and yanked it off, watching as it fell along with Keima's calm demeanor. Luckily, Mari wasn't focused on the deep frown her son had on, instead raising an eyebrow to the girl in front of her.

Bringing a hand to her chin, Mari hummed to herself. Something about that name sounded familiar to her. She pulled out her phone. Time for some fact checking. "So, 'Kanon Nakagawa', huh? Are you related to that idol Keima refuses to watch?"

Suddenly, the mood in the room took a nosedive. Keima looked around. He was sure there were some candles lit around the room for ambiance, so why were they smothered? And he was pretty sure the ceiling lights were warmly tinted, not a deep blue.

"Keima."

He looked to his left, noticing that the idol, whose contact lenses were off, was holding a piece of paper with kana hastily scribbled on it in red ink under the table. It read: Y _ou will have a lot of explaining to do over dinner, mister._

"Hey-"

"You really _are_ her," Mari commented, looking at her smartphone intently. She was nibbling on her lower lip, as if she wasn't sure what to do with such a revelation. "Either that or you're her long lost twin. The resemblance is uncanny."

"Why did you tell her?" Keima asked, knowing when to just let the truth slide. He wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose _so badly_ , but the restraints were a little too tough for his scrawny build to break out of. "The whole point of your disguise was to go unnoticed! Why didn't you give her a fake name or something?"

"Mou, I was going to have to tell her eventually, right?" Kanon dismissed, shrugging as her thin grin widened into a megawatt smile. That motion seemed to practiced, not a single movement wasted.

 _'What did she mean by that?'_ Keima asked himself, a little dismayed at how good Kanon was at masking her emotions when she wanted to. First time it happened was at the pool. He wasn't very happy with that development. It was a little manipulative of him, but Keima wouldn't be able to play off her expressions in order to herd her into more desirable situations. Okay, it was incredibly manipulative of him, but he didn't hold himself to reality's set of standards anyway, so no skin off his back.

Until he could find a workaround around both Mari finding out about Kanon's identity and Kanon's undisclosed intentions, he'd have to stall. Keima said, "Unless you want to get back home at an ungodly hour, we have to get going now, so can you undo these restraints, Mom?"

"Very well," Mari said, replacing her glasses back on her face with her left hand as she flicked her right wrist, a key coming out of the sleeve. As she removed Keima's restraints, she gave her beloved son a smile. "Come back safely, you two."

While Kanon showed off her patented idol smile and wave routine, Keima picked up on a subtler nuance to her wording. "You want both of us to come back?"

"Of course." Mari's gentle smile grew feral. "How else am I supposed to have my curiosity satiated?"

On that rather ominous note, a now re-disguised Kanon ushered Keima into a car and had someone whom he assumed to be her driver get them to the restaurant she desired. Dreading the long ride, Keima pulled out his PFP, hoping Kanon wouldn't get on his case during the transit. As if she had read his mind, she left him alone, popping in a pair of earbuds into her phone so she could drown out the mechanical clicks of his PFP buttons as she watched the lights of Maijima City pass by.

Upon their arrival, Keima quickly stowed his PFP and got out of the car from his side, the one facing away from the establishment. Once he walked to Kanon, she was already out of the car with a hand outstretched, expecting something.

He stuck out his elbow. She grabbed the whole arm.

"Yes, ma'am. Do you have dinner reservations?" a man dressed in a sharp, jet black suit asked when they approached the door, his gaze holding a little suspicion. Keima supposed the man thought they were a little too young to be dining at that kind of restaurant.

"Two for Eri Nishihara?"

The man's eyes widened as he scanned the list. "Yes, there is an entry for Eri Nishihara and Keima Katsuragi. You've reserved _that_ room and made some very unique arrangements, I see. Please, follow me."

Keima was whisked by his arm across the dining area and into an elevator, Kanon eagerly following in the older man's footsteps as he led the two towards their assigned area. Each floor they passed as the ascended was a sad reminder that, for a long while, he had been getting caught up in other people's paces, dragged along to their desires. It was, to be frank, rather tiring. All he wanted to do was to go back to his games. What was stopping him from just walking out on Kanon and heading home?

Y _ou are the only one I feel I can trust._

Right. The girl smothering his arm has no one else to turn to. There were just some idol-related problems that had to be solved through external means. Why did it have to be him though?

 _I need you, Keima._

Of course Kanon did. So did all the other girls, he supposed. Still, if he was going to go into an internal crisis about the same "Should I help them?" subject every other day, then what was the point? It was just an exercise in futility.

 _A-are you saying-_

Don't even go there.

 _-that this has to stop?_

"Keima, are you okay?"

He was shaken out of his internal rambling by Kanon, words laced with concern, as they stood in front of where they were supposed to dine. As the man who ushered them to their destination looked at him with confusion, Keima was able to take a good look at just what kind of special arrangements Kanon made.

What they were provided was an entire floor, probably at least double the size of the floorspace of Café Grandpa, and it was pretty much entirely empty and unlit aside from a table with a single candle on it. Tables other occupants would have used weren't the only things missing; there weren't any walls either. Instead, large glass panels stretching from the floor to the ceiling gave way to an immaculate view of the night life Maijima fostered, meaning that they had gone up at least twenty stories. Overall, Keima would contest that there were a few game CG's that were more breathtaking, he had to admit that it was definitely a great spot for an Event.

"I-I'm fine," Keima said, pulling out a seat for Kanon. "Just admired the view for a bit too long."

"Very well, Mr. Katsuragi. Ms. Nishihara already decided on your three-course meal this evening, so please sit back and relax. We will have servers up with your starters in a minute. Enjoy yourselves."

As the man walked away, Kanon wasted no time getting into the thick of things. Folding her hands under her chin, she shot Keima a cold glare. Luckily, Keima had been growing numb to such stimuli, so instead of becoming instantly petrified, he simply became clammy. Kanon said, "So you don't watch me when I'm on TV?"

"I didn't want to risk accidentally giving away our little secret, so I would just leave the living room every time you came up. After all, if she caught me taking interest or humming along, she would look into it," Keima said, easily deflecting it now that his mom wasn't breathing down his neck and making it hard for him to breathe.

Speaking of hard to breathe, the longer Kanon withheld her verdict on whether she'd give him a "little" zap or not, the harder Keima had to try to breathe properly.

"I guess I can let this slide," Kanon said, finally relenting as her frown leveled out. The glow from Maijima's skyline cast a soft light on her features; combined with the candlelight that brought warmth to her complexion, the idol seemed ethereal. It was eerily similar to the effect the moonlight had on Ayumi, and Keima was sure he didn't like it. Ayumi. He hadn't walked home with Ayumi in forever, ever since she and her track team doubled down on training for the upcoming track meet the week after. Considering all the things he had on his plate, he supposed it was a good thing that she was too busy for the old routine.

Right after, their server appeared with their appetizer for the night: what appeared to be watercress soup. While normally the server would describe the meal a bit, it seemed that Kanon had instructed them differently, with the server walking off right after wheeling their meal over to them and saying, "Please ring the bell when you're ready for your first entrée. Enjoy your soup, Ms. Nishihara, Mr. Katsuragi."

"Okay, mind if I ask a question?" Keima asked, a little tired of being on the backfoot. Kanon, eyebrow raised, waved a hand, gesturing to allow him to speak up. "Why did you spend so much? With the way you worded it a few days ago, it seemed like a simple dinner date at a fancy restaurant, but now, it seems like you blew a hundred thousand yen or something on this. It's a little much just to thank me for teaching you how to swim."

Her smile didn't change, even as she brought the spoon up to her lips to try out the soup. "I'm sure you'll find out why after this night is over."

"Cryptic."

"I know," Kanon said, finally admitting to being consciously enigmatic. "Got to keep up the suspense. I'm an entertainer after all."

Keima saw her slip her hand under the table, which put him a tad on edge. Luckily, Kanon didn't pull out anything nasty; just a hand-sized box tied shut with an elegant ribbon. A little on the nose for the Ribbon Revolutionist, but Keima didn't really mind. Holding it towards him with a bowed head, Kanon said, "Please accept this from me."

"So this is the present you wanted to give me," Keima replied. She shot him the classic puppy eyes and pout combo infamous in games. Guess she wanted him to open it then and there. Obliging to her unspoken request, Keima tugged on the ribbon and opened the box, pulling out what was inside. It was a smartwatch, one of the more expensive ones with the metal bands.

"Do you like it?" Kanon asked, her calm smile turning into a bright beam of pearly whites.

"I don't use watches very often." Keima lied. He didn't use them at all. There was no practical use for watches to Keima. If he wanted to check the time, he could just look at either his PFP or his smartphone. Speaking of smartphones, a smartwatch's extra utility was covered by the smartphone anyway, so unless someone were to put a galge on a smartwatch…

…now he was future proofed and could check it out instantly. "I think I might start wearing them now."

"I'm glad you do," Kanon said, clasping her hands together in joy. "It matches the one I have at home. You know why I got it for you?"

"Let me guess; I'll find out in the future."

"Bingo," Kanon said. "Shall I call on the next meal?"

After receiving a nod, Kanon rung the bell she had on her side of the dining table. After watching the man in front of her polish off the cream of watercress soup, Kanon heard the ding of the elevator arriving to their floor. Kanon wasn't really aware of how they actually heard the bell, but Okada had said they would respect their privacy, and Kanon trusted her manager's word.

Keima watched as their server wheeled in not just two plates of what appeared to be a filet mignon, but also another box that took up at least eight times the space of the smartwatch. Once again, it was tied shut by a fancy ribbon.

"Here are your entrées," the server said, "and the present Ms. Nishihara requested."

As the server left, Keima stared incredulously at the box placed on the side. "When you mentioned giving me a present, you failed to mention multiple."

"It's all part of the secret, Keima. Now, go and open it!"

Placing the box in front of him, Keima tugged on the ribbon just like before, watching the gift box unfurl to reveal a shockingly pink package, and for once in a long while, Keima's lips curled into a genuine smile. While tacky looking, it was a sealed box for a PFP, colored pink to match the game the PFP was bundled with. The game was a typical galge, sure, but the thing that made it interesting was that they licensed Kanon's music, so the pink-haired choir girl you would romance in it actually sang songs like Love Call. He had yet to play it – he was still waiting for his first paycheck – but he had heard it was mediocre. Still, a game was a game, so he wanted it, and now, he had it _and_ a backup PFP. It took a substantial amount of effort for him not to get giddy.

"I'm glad you're enjoying your second gift," Kanon said, her smile matching his. "Can I ask a second question?"

"Yes?" Keima replied, trying hard not to let the PFP bundle in the corner of his eye cloud his judgement and change his bias. He supposed he was pulling it off, though he couldn't make eye contact with it, and he had to distract his hands by going through his steak.

"Why did you help me?" Kanon asked, her smile faltering a bit. She forked a bit of mignon into her mouth to try to remove the bitter taste in her. "It can't be because I forced you in the beginning, right?"

Alright, this was a common enough scenario in games. There had to be at least a thousand games that featured a route where someone did something reluctantly at the start only to continue doing said thing without having to be coerced in the end. All Keima had to do was play it by the books. Casting a sideways look – away from the PFP, mind you – he said, "Well, I did feel reluctant in the beginning, but-"

 _I need you, Keima._

"-you had no one else to turn to. While it gets stressful, sometimes even annoying, I haven't regretted our time together."

"I see," Kanon said, relief evident in her voice as she drew her hands to her chest. "I'm glad that you aren't just doing this out of pity. I may not show it, but I do have an idol's pride, y'know."

Time passed, and before he knew it, Keima had his elbow on the table, staring down a decadent chocolate mousse. Ew. He didn't want to end what ended up being a pleasant outing on a sweet note. Oh well, he was just going to have to tank it. To distract himself from his gastronomic doom, he threw out some small talk, "No more boxes, eh?"

"…"

For once the whole evening, he was met with silence. Keima tried to read her expression, and cracks finally started to form, though he didn't like the signs. There was a light flush on her skin. Her eyes were avoiding his. Her pupils were dilated. She even had her elbow on the table too, even though she had been the prime example of someone with table etiquette just moments before. Weird. Keima was sure that his reply to her question earlier hadn't laid on his support for her too thick. He didn't say anything too committal or strong like 'I enjoyed every single moment with you', right?

Well, it was time to debug, he supposed. "Kanon, is something wrong?"

"No, my heart is racing, but I'm alright," the idol replied, abruptly getting up from her seat in front of the boy with her hands held behind her back. "Let's just say that I've just made an important decision. I'll ask you one last question, and this is the most important one of all."

She took a step forward, now safely in Keima's personal space. Her eyes were now glued onto his. Slowly, Kanon took a knee. Keima's mind almost stopped. He could see in his mind the route had he had been ninety nine percent sure they were going to be on. He crumpled that into the garbage. Guess who rolled a nat 100.

"Stay by my side, and I will sing my heart out only for you," Kanon said, pulling out and opening her ring box, "forever."

Keima couldn't help but admire Reality's ingenuity. _'Okay, this shit is getting ridiculous.'_

* * *

 **Okay, you guys probably want to lynch me, but please gimme a chance to conclude this in the next chapter.**

 **Sorry no one beta reviewed this. Sneaked it past xellos540 who typically screens these things 'cause I wanted to update the story that's been on hiatus for far too long.**


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